Chai, Chai, Coffee, Coffee

Samuel's favorite thing to watch is this "Chai, Chai, Coffee, Coffee" video. It makes me think of when my brother and sisters and I pretended we were on the Duty Train in Germany.

Monsoon prep

Here's how Evie prepared herself for a short walk through the monsoon rains.

Update on the greens

Homemade ravioli stuffed with radish greens is actually quite tasty.

Afternoon in photos

Today was routine. John leaves for work early. I get Johnny off to school, then get Evie to preschool and Samuel and myself to Mommy and Me. Pick up Evie around noon. Do a little grocery shopping. Lunch and playtime. Drive out to the International School to play on the playground and get Johnny from his after-school activity.

Around noon, I realized that I had my camera in my bag.

This is where I do most of our shopping for produce. I have no idea how to pronounce the name of the shop, which is Kovai Pazhamudir Nilayam, so I just call it Kovai and my driver knows what I'm talking about. Most grocery stores don't offer any produce, and those that do have a very limited selection, so grocery shopping usually involves two or three stops. I like this place because it's relatively clean, and it usually has what I need.

Okra on the left ... Here it's called lady's fingers and is super popular.

This is my lovely assistant showing off some kind of flat peapod or beanlike thing. Next time I go I'll read the label. Notice the mountains of eggplant behind her. They're very popular and come in all kinds of varieties. Evie likes them because they're purple, so we usually take some home with us.

Evie had way too much fun with this. Now she's showing you a lemon, which my cook calls a savory lime. They're a lot like the small green limes you get in Latin America.

So here's a funny story about greens. I feel like I'm reasonably well versed in fresh produce, having bought it in several countries and being a passable cook. I've obviously got a few things to learn.

A little background: It's slightly unusual that I do our grocery shopping rather than our cook. I chose to do it this way, because I wanted to keep some control over what my family eats and because I thought it would be a good way to force myself to get out and about on the local scene. I'd say I do about 80 percent of our shopping, and I really love doing it. Gopal picks up the 20 percent that I'm completely clueless about. (There are about a million varieties of lentil, did you know? And then there are the several billion other legumes I don't even have in my vocabulary.) So today I was going to buy spinach for Gopal to use in a filling for homemade ravioli. Before I left, he reminded me to buy the large-leafed variety for better flavor. No problem!

I came home with the produce and went to deal with rowdy kids while Gopal did the soaking and washing. A couple of hours later, as Joseph and Gopal were prepping things to store in the fridge, I asked if I'd gotten the right spinach. "No, ma'am. You bought radish greens." Ah.

Here's Evie in front of all kinds of greens. She's showing you the green onions we bought. Here they're called spring onions, and they're delicious. All onions here are amazingly tasty.

Can YOU identify these greens?

I cannot believe how much ginger we go through. I love it!

In the next photo, Vanna I mean Evie is showing off an Australian orange. Most of our oranges and apples come from Australia or New Zealand, and they're by far the most expensive produce I buy. Today I spent 2 rupees on ginger (that's about 4 cents), 7 rupees for the green onions, 5 rupees for a cucumber, 11 for tomatoes, 11 more for bell peppers (called capsicum here), 4 rupees for coriander leaves (cilantro) ... you get the idea ... and 115 rupees for apples. The total bill for 13 kinds of produce (including the apples) was 295 rupees. That's $5.90. Oh, yeah.

All manner of strange and wonderful fruits

It's impossible to capture the experience that is paying for your purchases here. Every store is different, and it's all varying degrees of complicated. Kovai is one of the easier shops for me. Leaving the store generally involves a little pushing and an occasional elbow thrown, then a sudden awareness that there's actually an open register and I actually got there first. It does help to have Evie along. People get so distracted with pinching her cheeks and asking her name that I'm able to beat them to the punch.

Those are my 115-rupee apples in the foreground.

After Kovai, we stopped at Spencer's grocery. Since we buy produce from the produce shop and meat from the meat delivery people (grocery stores don't have reliable electricity so their meat is spotty -- and they generally only have chicken anyway), the grocery store is usually a quick stop for rice, flour, boxed milk or juice. We might also pick up something evil, like Diet Coke ... maybe ... or Lay's brand India's Magic Masala potato chips (to die for).

This is not the offending store from a previous post, if you're wondering.

The shelves on the left are stocked entirely with rice, legumes and flour. The variety is amazing.

After lunch and some time to play, I took Samuel and Evie over to Johnny's school to play on the playground before we had to meet Johnny. The American International School of Chennai (AISC) has far and away the nicest playground in the city. They also have a PTA store, a coffee shop, a juice stand, and all kinds of yummy Asian fried foods for sale. You'll see parents and younger siblings just hanging out there at all hours of the day.

AISC students celebrated the International Day of Peace by making Tibetan-style prayer flags decorated with images or slogans related to peace. They were fluttering all over the school this afternoon.

Here's a cutie on the playground.

Samuel is so obsessed with motorcycles. He's holding one of Johnny's Lego motorcycles, which he didn't put down until John made him park it somewhere before getting in bed tonight.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig ...

Shops like these line most of Chennai's streets. This one is selling flower garlands and who knows what else. Notice the sign that reads "astrology." I didn't realize what a big deal astrology is in Indian culture. That's a post for another day.

Traffic on the homeward journey. Ashok would say it was "very traffic today."

So that's an average Monday afternoon for you.

This and that

Before I do anything else, I have to show you this text I got from Evie's preschool today.

"Happy morning!! Pls pick up your little one at 11:30 today due to power shutdown. Sorry for the incontinence. Regards"

I'll be laughing about this for days.

In other preschool news, Samuel and I had a fun time this morning learning about milk and dairy products. They had a little papier mache cow with a plastic glove full of milk hanging underneath. The kids were supposed to milk the cow to get a visual of where milk comes from. It was fantastic! I wish I had a photo to post. Samuel learned that the milk comes from the cow and then gets delivered to our house by a milkman like this one:

I shamelessly lifted this photo from someone's blog. (Just as Delish)

Not precisely true for us, but fun to know anyway. We've been getting our milk out of a box.

Last night John and I went to see a performance by the Parijat Desai Dance Company, which is based in New York.

This photo is from the dance company's Facebook page.

I really enjoyed the performance. They performed a mix of classical Indian and Western contemporary dance, some set to electronic music composed by South Asian-American artists and some set to Hindustani love songs. It was really beautifully done. I wish I knew a little more about classical Indian dance. Chennai is considered a cultural center for traditional dance and music, so I'll probably get a chance to learn more.

Look who's going to school!

Evie had her first day at preschool on Friday. Yes, I realize that was almost a week ago, but what can I say? Here's the big girl all ready to go.

And with Evie, there has to be a glamor shot, too.

This is our first experience with formal preschool, so it's a new routine for all of us. I was involved in something like Joy School with Johnny and with Evie before we moved here, trading turns as host with other parents. We all loved the set-up, but that doesn't seem to be the thing here. We have Evie in an Indian preschool near our house, and I think it's going to be great for her. Two of her friends from the Consulate are in her class, so that's a little bit of familiarity. She's been having a hard time understanding her teachers through their accents, but I'm hoping she gets through that quickly. It's actually part of the reason we put her in the school.

And look who else is going to school!

Samuel and I are going to a Mommy and Me class at the same preschool. In January we might put him in the group for 2-year-olds, which meets for two hours every day, but for now he's getting used to the school with Mom at his side.

One of the great things about Mommy and Me is that I get to hang out with the Indian moms, dads, and grandparents who are bringing kids to the class. It makes me sympathetic to Evie's language concerns. On our first day, some of the moms were talking about how "smart" one of the little girls looked, and it took me several minutes to realize that they were talking about her dress!

Another thing I love about the class is the insight into local culture that comes through the lessons and songs. This week we were talking about community helpers. It included the expected: police officer, fire fighter, teacher. And it included the unexpected (for me): tailor, vegetable wallah, nanny, cobbler, sweeper.

We also sing a song that's similar to "Wheels on the Bus," but it's full of things you might see out the bus windows while driving down the streets of Chennai. There's the tailor stitching clothes. There's the man who presses Papa's shirts. There's the man who sharpens the knives. Yes. These things happen on the street. There are the autorickshaws. There are the cycles. There are the scooters. Oddly, there's no mention of cows, goats or dogs.

There's another song that's a version of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" that includes a verse on what to do if you see a crocodile as you're rowing down the river. (Scream for help, if you're wondering.)

I'm glad I decided to do the Mommy and Me class. It's been fun for me, and it's given Samuel something to do during the agonizing wait for Evie to come home from school. He's constantly asking "Where's Evie?" "Will Evie come home?" "When can Evie play?"

x

Back from Delhi

Hi all. This is John making my first post.

I recently had a chance to spend some time in Delhi, where I attended a 3-day conference sponsored by the U.S. Embassy. It was a great conference. One evening as part of the conference, the U.S. Ambassador hosted a reception at his official residence, which strangely enough, is like a mini version of the Kennedy Center. The highlight of the evening was a performance by a Sufi band from the Punjab, an area in Northwest India near Pakistan. It was very lively, wonderful music.

In the front row, you can see the keyboardists and vocalists. The brown boxes are like accordians in a box. You push and pull the front of the box to pump the air into the instrument, and they have keyboards inside.

The back row is the drummers, who are clearly the most important part of the band.

The woman on the left wearing red is the Director General of the Foreign Service, and the man to her right is the acting U.S. Ambassador to India. Just in case you were suffering from the delusion that diplomats are bunch of stodgy, stuffy, stuck up sticks in the mud, take note of  how they are, dare I say it, moving to the music.  

Another highlight of the conference was a walking tour of a poor neighborhood in Delhi given by the Salaam Balak Trust. It was very touching and eye opening. Our tour guide was a young man by the name of Iqbal. He told us that his earliest memories are of being beaten so badly by his parents that he hurt all over his body and could not sleep at night. One day, he had had enough and ran away. He jumped on a train and found himself in Delhi. He lived on the streets in Delhi for several years before being taken in by the Salaam Balak Trust, which gave him a place to live, a high school education, and helped him get into college. He is now studying to become a software engineer. He was so young when he ran away that he does not know where he was born, his age, or even his given name. He chose his name when he started a new life, and he is now quite a well-spoken, hopeful young man. I was impressed by his courage and optimism.

Iqbal showing us a wall in the neighborhood. There are various images of religious figures along the wall. Take a guess as to why the images are there. I'll give you a hint. There are no public restrooms in the neighborhood, and the images are supposed to prevent something. Figure it out? Iqbal said the images are actually pretty successful.

This is looking the other way in the same alley. The sideways sign is for a hotel. The buildings are so close together that people go from building to building by taking a step out the window.

Another part of the neighborhood. Check out the power lines.

Street kids love to hang out at video game shops like this one. Movies are also very popular.

I saw this man ironing in the street. I thought his iron was beautiful and asked him if I could take a picture. He looked at me like I was crazy, but he agreed to let me take the picture.

Kids at one of the Salaam Balak Trust centers.

They were thrilled to have visitors and joked with us.

I wondered when we started the tour how people in the neighborhood would react to us. We found that everyone was polite and friendly. At the very worst, we got indifference from people who were busy going about their work and paid no attention to us at all. Not a single person was rude to us during the entire 2-hour tour.  

To sign off, I have to post one more picture. Having grown up in North Dakota, I couldn't resist taking a picture of a gentleman who was on the same plane from Delhi back to Chennai. And let me just say that it was extremely hot and humid in Delhi and Chennai.    

Hello!? Dude, what would you do if you actually experienced cold?

 

  

One of these things is not like the other ...

My super-fair skin and large-ish stature make it pretty obvious that I'm not from these parts. But aside from some staring and paparazzi action (especially when I've got the kids with me), people are usually extremely friendly, and they're kind almost to the point of deference. Today I had a different experience.

I was on my way home from the Consulate and stopped to buy some produce. As soon as I walked into the shop, the two young women who were running the cash registers started shouting in what I suppose they thought were American accents: "Hello! How are you! How is it going?" It wasn't in the friendly tone I've become used to, and they laughed with each other as they shouted. If I hadn't been in such a hurry to get home to the kids, I might have left the shop right then. I knew they had what I needed, though, and I didn't like the idea of having to drive all over town looking for it somewhere else. The two women continued laughing as one of them rang up my purchases (which takes five times as long to do here as it does in the States, for some reason). As I paid, the woman serving me said, "Carry bag?" Some of the shops make you pay for your bags, and she was asking how many I wanted. She gave me about one second to answer and then shouted, "You want carry bag?" This had her friend doubled over with laughter. I said I'd like two please, paid for them, and left the store.

I spent most of the ride home imagining what I could have done or said differently. Most of the scenarios ended with me reducing the two of them to blubbering piles of remorse and then walking triumphantly from the shop. Once I landed back in reality I was glad I hadn't let them see my annoyance. They knew they were being jerks, and me getting angry probably would have made them laugh all the more.

I've been laughed at before, of course. (Do you KNOW me?) Street kids in the Congo used to dance around and chant mondeli, mondeli when they saw me. That just means "white person." In Brazil, people (mostly drunk men) would shout out holandesa because apparently I look Dutch?? And then of course there are the thousands of incidents of teasing or general embarrassment that come with growing up. So why am I so annoyed today? Did I think grown-ups don't have to deal with this kind of thing? Is it because the experience was so different from what I usually encounter in Chennai? I don't know, but I hope I remember this experience when I'm the one in the majority.

Guindy Children's Park

John's off to Delhi for a conference at some swanky hotel with fabulous food blah blah, but we can still have fun in Chennai! Right? Let the party begin!

Evie, Samuel and I met some friends at Guindy National Park today. The park is only 1 square mile and right in the middle of the city. We hung out at the Children's Park, which is kind of a mini zoo and frankly kind of sad. The kids didn't notice the dirt or the smell, though, and had a great time.

Here's Evie checking out a common langur.

Yes. This monkey is out of its cage.

And so is this one.

No one else seemed too concerned, though, so I shut out the images of rabid monkey madness and gently nudged the kids over to the next cage. We saw otters, sambars (kind of looks like a huskier reindeer), birds of all kinds and a butterfly garden. The peacocks were showy this morning. I think it's hilarious that they turn in slow circles while their feathers are fanned. Are we in Milan?

Nope. We're in India, and we're drawing the usual crowd.

Add several hundred to the thousands of photos of my children saved on cell phones throughout Chennai. I briefly thought of throwing the kids into an empty cage and hanging a sign that said "Western children." But seriously, who can resist this?

Read this sign.

Now look at this slide. What!? A teenager might think twice before climbing up there!

Evie, however, is pretty fearless. It's built for kids, so it must be safe. Right ... right?

Here are the kids lined up for a drink and a snack (after liberal application of hand sanitizer).

Another fun day out and about in Chennai! The Delhi Hyatt has an awesome pool and buffet? Whatever, Dad.

John-ny

Johnny has decided that at school he will be known as John. This makes me a little bit sad.

This is the real India

Expats in developing nations run a real risk of living in a protective bubble, of moving from the embassy, to the nicer shops, to their cleaned and air-conditioned homes without a thought about the lives of the people around them.

Shortly after we arrived in Chennai, one of John's fellow officers urged us to get out and about in the city as quickly as we could. Otherwise, he said, you'll get too comfortable with sending the housekeeper out to do grocery shopping and the driver to run errands. You'll hole up in the house and never get to know the country that's hosting you for two years. We've tried to take his advice, and I feel like we have two things going for us on that front. We attend church in a local branch, and we have household help. Both of these things give us a close connection to Indian families, and today we got immersed in the ultimate in Indian family tradition. Joseph - our house cleaner and frequent babysitter - got married.

Everything in India is done in a crowd. What else can happen when there are 1.2 BILLION people around? A wedding is no exception. Joseph is Catholic, so the wedding included a full mass. It really was this crowded.

There was no exchange of rings, but during part of the ceremony, Joseph placed a gold chain around Queen Mary's (yes, that's really her name) neck. Gold is THE THING in India. Evie asked me the other day why all the men wear gold bracelets. Bracelets are for girls, don't you know. Not in India. In India, gold in any form is for everyone.

This was Johnny's first real exposure to another religion, and he was full of questions. He was especially interested in Communion. We had some good discussion at home about the similarities and differences between the Catholic service and our Sacrament meetings. He's growing up! I'm pausing to wipe a tear (really).

I have to say this was an eye-opening day for Johnny in many ways. Joseph's family is not wealthy, though not poorest of the poor. The church was open air and had a dirt floor. It was in the middle of the bride's neighborhood, and one of her close relatives opened her home to us and allowed us to use the bathroom and rest there before and after the ceremony. I wish I could have taken a picture of the home, but I couldn't think of a way to do it without offending. The house was a small two-room structure with a kitchen around the back and a bathroom (a "squat toilet," as is the norm here -- we're getting used to them) built on to the outside. There was no running water, just a communal pump out in the street. The rooms had no windows. There were openings between the walls and the roof for air circulation that let in a little bit of light. It reminded me of homes I sometimes visited on my mission in Brazil ... right down to the smell of damp brick and cement. The family was wonderfully hospitable and the home was neat and clean. The woman (she only spoke Tamil, so I never caught her name) opened a new bar of soap for us and gave me powder for my face and the kids -- very generous gestures. Johnny noticed all: the chickens running around, the dirt floor of the courtyard, the smell of garbage in the street, the mats instead of beds, and the happiness of every person at that wedding.

Back to said wedding. We had seats of honor as employers of the groom.

The last part of the ceremony was an exchange of flower garlands and a handshake from the priest. Joseph is married!

Now for the fun part. Everyone came forward to congratulate the bride and groom, including this somewhat rowdy group of Joseph's single buddies.

Every single person who congratulated the couple also got a picture taken with them. This took forever ... luckily, no one waited around for the bride and groom before serving the food.

The older gentleman on the right is our cook, Gopal. He's Joseph's grandfather and raised Joseph from infancy.

A rearranging of chairs and bringing in of long tables turns the church into a party hall.

Sam the man

The traditional food at an Indian wedding is biryani, wonderful, mouthwatering, delicious biryani ... You know you want some. It's a spicy rice dish made with chicken, mutton or shrimp for non-vegetarians and with roasted vegetables for the vegetarians. At Joseph's wedding, it was a chicken biryani served with sweet onions in a yogurt sauce. Tasty! Dessert was a blob of yellow something that tasted like extremely sweet cream of wheat with a hint of licorice. It was actually pretty good. Tamilians traditionally eat with the fingers of the right hand, and since there were no utensils to be seen, that's what we did, too. As guests of honor, we got plates. Most of the wedding guests ate from a green paper mat, which is a quicker, easier, less expensive way to do the traditional banana leaf.

The man in the blue shirt is our driver, Ashok. His daughter is getting married in November, and he's proud as can be. He talks about it constantly, alternating between excitement about the wedding and annoyance at the cost. The cost of a traditional Indian wedding, be it Christian, Hindu, or Muslim, is outrageous. The bride's family provides a new sari for a whole list of female relatives, and the fanciness of the sari increases with the closeness of the relationship. Ashok is spending over 30,000 rupees on invitations alone (1,000 invitations!) ... That's almost three times his monthly salary - just for invitations. When a family has a baby girl, they start socking money away immediately. It's incredible! It's insane! I could go on and on! But I'd better not.

Ohhhh, biryani ...

Evie at first complained that the food was too spicy, but then she devoured her entire plate (and stole chicken from some neighbors) so I guess it wasn't so bad.

Master Johnny at ease

John told me not to post this picture, but I can't help it. He's a master at eating Tamil-style.

We told Gopal that this biryani was good, but not as good as what he makes for us. He thought we were just being polite, but seriously, it's worth a trip to India just to eat Gopal's biryani. Get over here and try it!

The kids were quiet on the way home. Samuel was sleeping, Evie was busy watching life go on outside the car windows, and Johnny was contemplative. Joseph's wedding was an amazing experience, and I'm so glad we got to be part of it.