The arrival

Namaste from Fort Cocin, Kerala India.  For all who knew our plans, they’ve changed, and for all who hadn’t here’s what they’ve become…

We arrived in a daze of exhaustion mixed with childlike curiosity and excitement. A departure from LAX at 12 pm on December 29^th left us in Cochin, Kerala India at 4:00 AM on December 31^st. We were timeworn to say the least.  Our cab driver, a handsome dark devotee as hairy on the arms as my papi and as hairy on the face as Jujie, held my printed name on a simple sheet of printer paper right outside the arrival gates.  The air was dense with the moist odors of heat, and the mass of people, though all looking rather tired, exuded excitement for the arrival of their loved ones.  We waited for our driver and another Ashram guest that was scheduled to be picked up with us, he never arrived and so we headed to the car to begin our three hour journey to Amma’s Ashram in Kollam, Kerala.  Our driver spoke only through his focused intentions and knew only a couple words of English, one being coffee, which he offered to stop and grab.  He did so for himself and we sat waiting beside him with some water we had purchased.  My first impression of this quick stop for coffee was one that would prove to be true, and that was that quick was never necessarily so when it came to food and drink.  Most all side street vendors use real dishes to serve and so you must sit and sip and/or eat, at a speed of your leisure, or at a speed of the vendors depending on the flow of business, your entire serving right there so as to return the cup or dish.  This particular vendor had a table and chairs and so we all sat and sipped watching the cars wiz by in the dim fading lights of an early morning.  The group of men huddled around the blue tent that would very soon begin to serve greasy fried delights gave us a curious stare.  We paid and offered smiles, were given none in return, and off we went to start our journey. 

Now for those of you who have witnessed driving in the busy cities of Mexico you have a slight idea of the experience I am about to explain, but for those of you that haven’t, you can’t possibly imagine.  To put it simply, every single driver on the road, rickshaw, car, bus, cargo carrier, even bicycle for that matter has one objective, get in front of the vehicle in front of you no matter how fast or slow it is moving.  A two way road, one lane per either way, quickly becomes a three or four lane road with vehicles jutting out to the sides on the verge of impaling cyclist with their bumpers, and zigzagging in and out of their lane and into the oncoming traffic like those purple headed creatures that you bop on the head to get a point before they disappear at venues like chucky cheese and shakeys. How there isn’t a “bop” every other car I haven’t the slightest idea.  We were on the edge of our seats for the first half of the ride with all too many gasps coming from either one of us.  The driver must have thought we were asthmatic. The state of the roads is a whole other thing and makes you cherish even the worst of roads back home.  Lucky for me, I was fortunate enough to see how they built them, which I found most interesting and all the same, very telling as to why they are so inundated with potholes.  On the sides of roads you’ll commonly see mounds of rocks, gray in color and more or less all equal in size, ranging between the size of a soda bottle cap and a golf ball, these are the building blocks of all the paved roads.  When it is time for filling in holes or repaving all together you will see and smell the burning of tar into liquid form that is then placed into heavy cast iron woks and carried atop the head (most commonly women’s) and poured over the leveled layers of rocks.  Each layer is hand poured so you can image how long it would take to do even a short length of road.  The crew of the road layers I saw were no less then 15 and were conjugated around a mere stretch of road no longer then a few meters.  I assume for the highways they have heavy machinery to do the job on a larger scale but for the town and village roads this is how it’s done.

As our fear of dying in an unruly car crash subsided and the hue of night uplifted itself to unveil stirring life in every corner our eyes could peek, all that was left to do was smile.  As we left the quick pace commotion of the city and entered into the rural village that surrounded our final destination the roads got increasingly smaller and bumpier, the people more curious, and the women and children much more obvious in numbers.  Children bathing, men reading the paper, women casually perfecting the folds of their saris were all but a few of the side sights that welcomed us into Kollam.  The most refreshing reality of it all was that the flow of life here was calmingly relaxed as though time itself had slowed so as to not presume any pressure on the daily endeavors of the people.  Life was alive and well, breathing at the rate of slumber.

We arrived at the Ashram a quarter past 8am, Ian unloaded the luggage while I ventured into the main temple to register at the international office.   Much to my dismay the calming sway of timelessness was not at all the tempo that resided once within the Ashram walls, the man behind the gated counter that I was checking in with was abrupt and rushed for time, having no time for all the questions I’d prepared along the way. He took our passports, gave me our room ID’s and pass code and sent me on my way to use a wordless map as my guide.  Lucky for us, our room was in the tall building adjacent to the temple, so we quickly loaded up into the elevator and eventually found our way to the room with the help of a devotee.  Our room was simple with a twin size bed, ceiling fan, broom, bathroom, and a picture sized mirror.  Our view was absolutely beautiful with swaying coconut trees shading the estuary and coastal life around it.  We could see the movement of devotees below completing their seva (selfless service) for various sects of the ashram, and could hear the multitude of bird calls peaking through the palm leaves.  It was inspiring.  We freshened up with a cold shower and relieved our exhaustion with about 18 hours of sleep.  When we awoke the sounds of the morning we had arrived too had changed to an ominous glow of mantras that filled the air like a hollow drum sounding to the beat of a tepid pulse.  If devotion ever had a single sound this was it, and if ever it could make your heartbeat like the moment you first fell in love, this would be the sound echoed straight into the pit of your giddied soul.  To wake to such an auditory sensation was something only the most imaginative of dreamers could fully understand.

Waiting for the day to arrive we read and played with our silhouettes in the shadow of our book light.  We had several hours to kill before the ashram demanded our attention.  Once it did we rushed downstairs to nose about and wait for the information stands to open at 10.  Breakfast was served at 9 and was delicious consisting of dosas (rice flour pancakes) and dhal (spiced lentil stew) with hot lemon tea and fresh water.  We hadn’t eaten since the plane and were starved for a hot meal.  The only thing that had sustained us were chili mangoes and Swedish fishes (thanks gabsJ) brought from home.  After breakfast we headed to the main temple to collect our seva assignments.  Ian was sent to the garbage sorting area and I to the ecology center, an all organic, fair trade, health foods store (Gabs and Patricia you would have loved it).  My job was listed as the store assistant and my duties entailed whatever was needed to be done.  The three women I worked with were wonderfully nice and had me stocking shelves and re-pricing essential oils.  The odors that emitted out of the spice mix room in the back of the shop were heavenly and made my stomach roar for their tastes.  Jaggery (a sugar substance made from the coconut palm), turmeric, cocoa, cinnamon, cloves, cumin, and kari (curry) filled the air and danced to the playing mantras that sounded over the crackling speakers.  My seva was over before I was ready and I was excited to return the following day.  Ian unfortunately had a rather regrettable smelling experience (“sanitary pads and poop”) as he sorted through the insurmountable amount of trash of the ashram guests.  We showered and again drifted off to sleep for another 12 hours or so only to awake to the still dark night of the ashram. 

Our days spent at the Ashram were all like this, mostly due to the overcoming power of jetlag on our sense of time.  We stayed for four days and three nights in total with nothing more gained then a few good nights of rest, enlightening sounds, and an overwhelming feeling of spiritual inadequacy.  For all who know us, and I presume the majority reading this do, they know that godly matters are not anywhere near the focal points of our lives.  I say this with no intentions of offense, just plain old truthfulness. And so for us to have entered into a realm of individuals so devout in their beliefs of Amma, who they revere as a living god, that all other topics of conversation become obsolete or merely a means to further discuss her greatness was just downright not my kind of thing.  My research was going absolutely nowhere, and I kind of knew it wouldn’t the moment I arrived there.  Food was quite the commodity as a matter of fact, as it was only served three very specific times a day, and only until it ran out, which happened sometimes within a mere 20 minutes.  If you completed seva at 12:30 and wanted to wash before lunch, which in Ians case was a must, by the time you made it to the lunch line the food was gone.  Many people visit the ashram at all times of the day, but during lunch time it seemed a grave deal more hectic.  I’m sure we were not the only staying guests that went hungry.  When I attempted to discuss traditions of food with the women I worked with I was given irrelative responses, and not because they did not know, but because they did not care of what I was talking about.  Mostly everyone at the Ashram was extremely kind but the first and final question they’d ask you was “and how did you meet Amma?” and if all you’d to say was, I haven’t yet, then the conversation would quickly become one sided (not yours) and you were forced to choke down your now irrelevant queries.  I had hoped, very much so, that my little fascination of how religious doctrines play out in different cultural contexts would help me in staying and acclimating to the ways of the ashram.  It didn’t and I suppose maybe the time is not now for delving into such indoctrinated ideologies.

Our move from the Ashram would take us back to the city of Cochin, only this time off into a quaint little peninsula known as Fort Cochin.  Though the area at this time of the year is overflowing with tourists it is not hard to find and stay where the locals conjugant, if your willing to walk a ways from the local shopping spots.  Though it seemed unfortunate at the time, but proved quite the opposite soon after, when we arrived the hostel we had intended to stay at was booked and the nearest one for 800 Rps. ($18) instead of 500 Rps. ($11) was our only option.  It wasn’t until we ventured out on our own away from the tourist shops that we found Mary Ann’s homestay.  Upon their sign hung on the wall were four words that caught my attention “we teach, you cook” this had us hurriedly crossing the street to inquire.  When we arrived we were greeted by a smiley Indian man who invited us in to talk.  He explained that the class was taught by his wife, who also cooks all meals for the homestay, and that the class could be either all vegetarian or non-vegetarian dishes.  It would be 500 Rps. for 5 dishes and a dessert.  I accepted with eager excitement and was told to report to class by 11am tomorrow.  My research was off to a good start and I couldn’t wait to ask the 100’s of questions my previous semester’s research had conjured up.  Our search for lunch continued, and I couldn’t keep from fantasying about all that was in store for me come tomorrow.  It was one of those rare moments where you wish time would simply dissipate and leave you right at the moment you’ve been craving to be.  The first restaurant we came across that seemed safe and tasty enough was actually a Thai BBQ place (good sign your in a tourist area), and since we were pretty starved, we decided to stay and give it a try.  I tried a lemon soda for the first time, Indian style, and it turned out to be the highlight of the entire meal.  What it is is the juice of a single small lemon with mineral water, sugar and salt on the side to add to your liking.  I’ve never been too big on soda, but this is by far one of my favorite beverages here next to my morning lemon tea.  I would even say it could take the Pepsi challenge against the bottled soda in Mexico, which is also quite the tasty treat for any type of soda drinker.  Our meal arrived consisting of a side of noodles, rice, and beef, and was quite forgettable.  But I guess that’s why you don’t go to India to eat Taiwanese cuisine.  We perused the town a bit and returned to our homestay at “The Good Shepard”(the Christian population in Kerala is notably large) to get some rest and call it a day.  

The morning of my first cooking class day was spent organizing our luggage to be ready for check out by 2:00 pm to move to another homestay.  Ian was to ask around while I was in class for the afternoon.  The host of Mary Ann’s homestay had offered a room at 650 Rps a night when we had inquired about the class, so that was one viable option.  By 10:40 we began heading for my class, Ian dropped me off in the care of the wife Geigi (pronounced just like Gigi…patricia J) and husband Anten who had initially greeted us yesterday, while he set about in search of our next home.  My first assignment was to copy down several recipes of Geigi’s, all of her own creation though still staples of the Keralan cuisine.  This in it of itself was like being given bits of gold to be cherished and taken care of, a cooks recipes are after all their culinary secrets, which is why I asked if I could share them on my blog before writing any of this down, lucky for you all…she said of course with the ever comforting Indian head bob which in this instance meant, yes. After this was completed it was into the kitchen to begin on our first dish which she titled (in English L)  Prawns with Coconut. I’ll have to get all the real names of the dishes before I leave.  Here is the recipe for any interested foodies J

Geigi’s Prawns with Coconut

Serves 1 (or if you eat like Ian…its an appetizer)

Ingredients        

Prawns- As per your need (we only used 5)

Red Onion-2 chopped (Onions in India are about the size of a small garlic bulb…so this amount should be altered if using our regular sized red onions to about a ¼ of a large one)

Garlic-2-3 cloves smashed

Ginger- 3 small pieces chopped

Green Chilly- 2 chopped

Fresh Curry leaves- 1 branch or about 6 leaves

Chilly Powder- 1 ½ Tsp.

Turmeric Powder- ½ Tsp.

Salt

Coconut Pieces finely chopped (the amount you add is to your liking, we used about 1/3cup)

Water- ¼ cup

Coconut Oil- 1 Tbsp

Vinegar- 1Tbsp

In a small pot add the prawns, onions, garlic, ginger, chilly, curry leaves, chilly powder, turmeric, salt, coconut, and water.  Bring to a boil and let cook on med-high heat for five minutes.  Add coconut oil and vinegar and reduce heat to med-low and let cook for another 5 minutes.  Turn off the heat and enjoy.

This dish is especially spicy and beats the sha-bang medium sauce at the Boiling Crab by a long shot in spicyness and in flavor.  Give it a go..you will not be disappointed.  Ian was smelling and licking his fingers for hours afterward.

The next dish we did was called baigan kari or Eggplant Curry. It was a nice veggie to go alongside the prawns but I imagine it would go just as well with a side of rice or noodles. I have Geigi’s coconut rice recipe as well if anyone is interested.

Geigi’s Baigan Kari

Serves 1

Ingredients

Eggplant-2-3 (again the eggplants in India are tiny, about the size of a guava, so edit this if you are using our huge ones found in local markets back home in California)

Ginger- Small piece chopped

Green Chilly- 2

Garlic- 2 cloves minced

Red Onion-1 (or a ¼ of a small onion)

*Coconut Milk- 1 cup

Fresh Curry leaves- 1 branch or 6 leaves

Turmeric Powder- ¼ Tsp.

Coriander Powder- 1 Tsp.

Coconut Oil- 1 Tbsp

Vinegar- 1 tbsp

Salt

* If you don’t have coconut milk on hand, make your own like they do in India, for 1 cup simply grate about ½ cup coconut on high speed in a blender or food processor, add in 1 cup water and blend till milky.  Strain the milk from the coconut pulp by squeezing the pulp above a strainer.  Do not throw the pulp away it can be used to make chutney for Masala Dosa or a couple of other breakfast dishes…recipes to come J

In a small pot on med-high, heat the coconut oil.  Sauté the onions and garlic adding in the ginger, chilly, curry leaves, salt, turmeric powder, and coriander power respectively.  Once at a boil add in the coconut milk and let come to a boil.  Add in the eggplant and lower the heat.  Cook for 10 minutes on low, or until eggplant has softened completely. Turn off the heat and mix in the vinegar.  Enjoy..

The final dish we prepared was a potato curried dish, boiled in a similar sauce to that of the prawns.  If anyone is interested I can post that one up as well.  They are all worth a try.  Class ended around 12:15 and I anxiously anticipated Ians arrival to see how my dishes came out.  He arrived and went straight for the prawns dish, paying no mind to the vegetables.  When he realized he’d swallowed the few prepared he sadly continued in with the other two dishes, enjoying them only slightly in comparison to the prawns.  He was happy, as was I, knowing my first try was good one.  After lunch we spoke to Anten about a room at his homestay.  He offered us a deal we couldn’t resist, 700 Rps a night inclusive of three meals a day.  We gathered our luggage and made our way back to Mary Anns. 

Our time here has been amazing, and feels just like home.  The two little girls, Maria and Ann, seven and six respectively, are two of the most beautiful children I’ve ever met.  They are cheerfully curious and imaginative making games out of just about anything you could think of.   Today I was hijacked by Maria and Ann had to rescue me by paying her 5000 bananas.  We communicated, from across the hallway, through the walkie talkies I brought from home (Jessie and Adam your gift has given us hours of fun J).  Maria is really interested in the guitar and has been hugging it since yesterday saying it’s her favorite instrument ever.  Ian with his big bear heart has given her his own so that she might take music classes at school with her friends.  She was so thankful she hugged Ian around his neck till he could hardly breathe. It was a beautiful thing that neither Ian nor Maria will ever forget. Her parents were equally thankful as they haven’t been able to afford to buy her one for 3000 Rps. ($68), though she’s been asking for months.  Ian’s been teaching her little things during the evening before and after dinner.

The food at Mary Anns has been some of the most deliciously comforting food I’ve ever had.  Geigi’s hand in the kitchen is that of an artist that I could parallel to only that of Patricia’s (Ian’s mum) and Adams (hermano), two of the best cooks I’ve ever had the opportunity to enjoy.  It often leaves me and Ian in a state of intoxication, drunk with sleep and delight.  Her dinners are the best, and the heaviest.  Always consisting of rice and some sort of fried fish, depending on what she picked up at the fish market just up the street.  With this life it feels like I never left the comforts of home.  When homesickness hits we will be returning here for sure.  For now we will enjoy it while it lasts, as our departure date from here is scheduled for the 11^th of January.  We will be heading too Maneer to live amongst “the village of elephants” and experience their take on Kerala’s cuisine.  Although I’ve been taking notes after every meal, I will officially be interviewing the family on the 9^th to talk about Eating Vedas, I am interested to hear how much the little ones know about the meaning behind the foods they eat.  The father is the only one who knows enough English to really understand me, so he’ll be helping me out a lot.  Because the family is Christian some of the research I’ve collected may be irrelevant as most has come from Hindu beliefs, I am eager to find the differences and similarities if there are in fact any at all.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

I suppose this is as good a place as any to leave this post...so until next time Namaste. and Nanni (thank you) for tuning in.   

Ian's music lessons with Marya and Anne

  

Magda and Anne

Eating with the Family

Ians biggest transport fear...the Rickshaw

Goats roaming the streets of Fort Cochin