Inspiration has a way of evading silence, a means of always making itself known, moving like a strong gust of wind that reminds you you’re awake. If I had but one thing to say of our first months stay here in India I would have to say it been a very windy few days. With January coming to a close and our stay here in Munnar quickly coming to its end, I am filled with a flood of emotions, most prevalent being that of curiosity. I have exhausted my research outlets here and this last week has sadly proven it to me. The baker I had spoke of hoping to meet last week was no where to be found, the priest no where to be disturbed, and the chocolate makers more evasive then the camouflaged frogs we’ve glimpsed at near lily pad ponds. I thought I’d gotten a lucky break when on Wednesday morning the friendly mechanic we pass everyday on our way to town greeted us with a “happy independence day;” much to my dismay upon inquiring as to whether there would be any celebrations in town that evening I was told simply “not here, not today.” It was another day gone without research. And although it has been disheartening, I suppose I should be in good spirits about it, because quite frankly this past week has also been my bodies most uncomfortable as well. Some of the bacteria here have caught up to me and thankfully only me, leaving many of my nights induced and many of the mornings fatigued. (At current in writing this I have hypersaliva and the awful shakes from a bowl of dhal fry I had for dinner along with a bad drink of water, Ian is purging and we are taking as many drugs as we've got :(. We even had the unfortunate experience of a purchased bottle of water that had been filled with contaminated water. I had read in my research prior to coming that often times vendors will burn a hole through the bottom of water bottles in order to refill and resell them. They create a makeshift seal, which is hard to catch unless you pay attention. Luckily I sensed something was wrong with it on my first small gulp, as the aftertaste in my mouth tasted rancid, and quickly tossed it. We just nearly escaped what could have been an awful episode of vomiting and diarrhea. Thankfully, Ian has really only been suffering from indigestion, as he loves to stuff his face with whatever tasty dish he can get his paws on right before we call it a night. I know overall it is our bodies adjusting to the local vegetation, being it as we’ve been eating quite a bit more of it these last few weeks, and I am all to glad for this. I think Ian has a stronger stomach then I do, especially since he’s been more risky then I in eating everything from fish to cold deep fried masala chicken pies sold by the local street vendors. Overall we are both still healthy with no need to worry.
Our departure from Munnar is scheduled for next Wednesday, February 3rd. We are heading to the nearest train station In Ernakulum by bus and are hoping to stay with our Indian family in fort Cochin for the night to catch our train by 5:50am the next morning; the train station is less then 15km from their home, so it seems like our best bet. The ride is about 13 hours from Ernakulum to Goa and we will be traveling in a sleeper car, we are so excited about this I doubt either of us will find much time for sleep, but even still, I’m glad for it as I’ve heard the trains can get extremely packed and become very uncomfortable. Our decision to head to Goa was inspired by an article I had saved on my computer from my previous semester’s research. It spoke of the Portuguese food identity found particularly and only in the state of Goa. India has had many invaders and much can be said of any one of them and what they’ve left behind, but what caught my attention about the Portuguese invaders was that in regards to food, their influence proved so strong and complimentary to that of the local food that centuries after their departure, unique dishes, found nowhere else in India, are still served at large throughout the state today. It is said that some of these invaders never left because of this, and it is known that the Indians of Goa are slightly lightly in appearance then most others found in Southern India. I found this tidbit of food history fascinating and reason enough to check it out for myself. This is why we are heading to Goa instead of Mangalore for the time being. We have booked a room at a homestay in a local village only a few dozen km from the main city. Staying in any major metropolitan area will be a whole lot more expensive then staying in the outskirts, and personally I rather enjoy village life much more then city life. The people are more personal, humble, and curious of us, making the otherwise uncanny encounters with them all the more frequent. Staying in Munnar has made this apparent to us, and I would even say that much of the experiences I’ve had here, with the people, may very well make up for the lack of research I’ve managed to attain. They have perhaps taught me the exact aim of my first months assignment, which was to find and place myself into the cultural context that surrounds me; which I must admit has not been difficult in the least. Indians are by far some of the friendliest people I’ve ever had the opportunity to meet. They have an energy about them that I cannot say I’ve ever experienced with any other type or group of people before. As populated as their country has become and as hurriedly as their major cities attempt to modernize the masses, the humble attitudes of the everyday people remain peaceful and grateful for what this live has provided them. There is a tale in ancient Indian mythology that speaks of the voyage of death, and in understanding it is easy to see why so many Indians live happily even when subject to grave poverty. It is told that life and death is circular and possibly everlasting, thus what one life accomplishes in a moment is but a piece of what its entire life’s accomplishments will amount to at its end. The ultimate journey across the river will be the final journey towards death, and can only come upon the soul who’s fulfilled his/hers entire life’s intent. If there has ever been a belief I’ve ever believed more strongly in, it is this, as it reminds me that no matter how much I feel I’ve failed in my endeavors, my efforts in attempting to do it at all will ultimately be what counts in the end. Both of mine and Ian’s greatest challenge as individuals in our fields has been remembering this, and we often feed off each others frustrations when we feel we’ve failed. Thankfully this week it has only been I whose felt disappointed, as he has been working with sounds he acquired from a church gathering last Sunday. Be watching for a couple of new song on his soundcloud (link is on our facebook)…I’m sure he’ll be publishing very soon.
This week has gone just as fast as the others with much of our time spent eating, people watching, eating, and movie watching. They sell some of the most awful bootleg movies here for less then a $1, that give us something to listen to while I play with my spices and Ian with his computer games. We have been coming in for the day much earlier then we have been mostly because the state of my stomach, but also because we find nothing left to do. One afternoon we found ourselves in a bar, for research purposes of course , that was located in a fancy guest house just a km up from town, affordable only by tourists, so I was less then hesitant to walk in. It was very dark and small, with a couple of men serving at the bar, and another few sitting and enjoying a couple of beers. I ordered a lime soda along with my shot of rum so that I could conceal the fact that I was drinking. I don’t think it was necessary as it is well known In India how much Americans like their drink. One man even told us that a shot of any hard liquor is called an American. This was amusing and yet a bit embarrassing all the same. As we started on our first drink an older British Gentleman approached us and asked if he could join us in conversation. He seemed nice enough, not as offensive as many of the European travelers we’ve stumbled across, and eventually proved to be quite the interesting character. He was traveling by motorbike across the state with his 80 year old father and was all too happy to have conversation with someone much younger; He said we made him miss his wife who he had met in India 10 years prior. We discussed everything from religion to food, politics to Indian hospitality and eventually called it a night. He paid the entirety of our bill and told us we were two of the most positive people he had ever met. It has been a comforting thought to see and know that our intentions our felt and understood by most everyone we meet here, Indian and non-Indian alike. It makes me think that we all need to be a bit nicer to each other, as it comes as too much of a surprise to too many a people when you simply treat them like a human being. Just yesterday Ian had asked if the young man that runs the internet café we frequent would help him out with some music for his recordings. He copied him over 150 songs and when we offered to pay him he simply said “for you, nothing.” We always take off our shoes when we enter his station, even if the others haven’t, and we always say hello to him and ask him how he is when we pass him in town. These seemingly simply offerings of acknowledgment have made all the difference to him, and he now treats us like friends. He always offers us the most genuine smiles when we enter and when we leave, and we do just the same In return. I can truly say that kindness transposes translation, and I know it has been our efforts in doing so that have gotten us as far as we’ve come.
Most everyone we’ve purchased parcels from in town recognizes us and says hello to Ian by name. I don’t think it is culturally acceptable to do the same with me, as I am a woman, but their smiles let me know I’ve at least been acknowledged. The young girls and men love Ian here, and seem to find him irresistibly attractive. It is utterly hilarious to see them giggle and talk amongst themselves as we pass by. He loves to think when it is a group of young men that they are looking at me, but on more then one occasion it has obviously been him that they favor. And although by our cultural standards this might sound homosexual, here it is obvious that the relationships shared between men are just as publicly affectionate, if not more so, as those shared between heterosexual couples back home. I have yet to see a man and woman being affectionate in public, and so my assumption is that men’s pent up desires for touch are thus given to their best friends, their brothers, and their male classmates instead. They hold hands, hug each other, put their arms around each other as they walk, and even caress each others faces. It’s always a bit amusing for us, but we’ve noticed that it is actually used as a tactic to get attention from the opposite sex. This is especially apparent in the school yards and wherever large groups of young hormone driven teens conjugate. It has definitely been something to get use to, but I must admit that the innocence of it all it rather refreshing to see from a sex that is so subjected to masculinity back home. Makes me think that many of the feminists that claim the male sex as polar opposite to that of females have never traveled outside the confines of their own cultures biases.
My favorite days spent here have been those where we simply just people watch. It is amazing how comforting it can be just sitting amongst a wave of people coexisting around you, living and thriving for reasons that would seem infinite to one minds understanding. I’ve always prided myself on never having had the ache of homesickness, but I must admit that I, as well as Ian, have definitely been feeling the pangs of it as of late. Little things brings memories of my mom to mind, like the smell the masa from the bread here I love so much, or the way I clean and recycle my plastic zip lock bags. Every lounging farmer, tired and beat from a hard days labor, seems to remind me of my dad and his one simple wish to eventually live and subsist simply, amongst a world that he knows has grown far too complicated. Even the small trash bin in our bathroom reminds me of my brother, and his favorite seat in our parent’s kitchen, the trashcan. Every time I crush garlic or make my strawberry preserve I am reminded of how simple it was to make him smile with just a smell and a taste. Just yesterday morning Ian got a bit angry with me for having woken him from a dream he was having where in which him and his mom were spending time together, discussing what they should eat for lunch of course, just the two of them. Often times the strangest things will trigger a long held memory, for instance the sight of the young boy and his father that live just below our homestay, tending their land, always reminds Ian of the days he used to spend helping his own dad destroy and tend the unruly landscape that used to surround their house. He’ll recall everything in an instant as though it were only yesterday. He has by far had the pangs a bit worse then I; especially since our last few months were spent living at his parent’s. He says he can’t wait to walk down the street with his arms around his brothers, like they do here, so be prepared Sebastian and Chub. It seems everyday brings a reminder of someone from back home, and although we regret not being able to speak to everyone on a more personal basis, I hope you all know that our memories of you are bringing us more comfort then you can possibly imagine. My professor warned me that the third week of field work is usually the hardest, and I can’t help but realize just how right she was. For me, I know it has a lot to do with the beauty that makes this place what it is that makes me miss and wish I could share it with everyone I love back home. My pictures and words can only convey my own interpretations, but to get them for yourself is always a completely different and worthy reality. I can only hope that what I’ve shared will have you as my reader inspired to see it all for yourself. But, there is still much exploration left for me to do, and many more stories left for me to hear and share with you, so for now I’ll leave you with a bit of my culinary experimentations to play with until next time. Namaste and we love and miss you all…
Magdalena prawn soup
This little recipe was born out of an attempt to satisfy Ian’s overwhelming hunger for large amounts of seafood. The recipe is for 1kg of prawns, so make sure you have friends to share it with.
Ingredients
Prawns 1 kg
Corn 2 ears, cut in quarters
Butter 1/3 cup
Garlic (8) 4 minced, 4 crushed
Coconut Oil 2 tbsp
Mustard Seeds 1 tsp.
Fenugreek 1 tsp.
Ginger 1” piece, minced
Dry chilly pepper 2, roughly chopped
Curry leaves 2 sprigs, about 15 leaves
Shallots Large handful, chopped+ 5-6 to throw in whole
Turmeric powder 1 ½ tbsp
Chilly powder 1 tbsp or to taste
Coriander powder 2 tbsp
Garam Masala 1 tbsp
Salt to taste
Pepper to taste
lemon juice to taste
Method
In a large sauce pan heat butter and sauté minced garlic until slightly browned, adding salt to taste; set aside in a separate bowl. In the same pan heat up the coconut oil and add the mustard seeds and fenugreek until they splutter, add in ginger, dry red chillies, curry leaves, and chopped shallots and sauté until the shallots have become almost transparent. Add in turmeric, chilly, coriander, garam masala, salt, and pepper and sauté for a few moments more. Turn off the heat and add in the butter garlic sauce, the remaining garlic cloves, lemon juice and a small cup of water. Add In the prawns and chopped ears of corn and mix well with the sauce, let sit for at least ½ hour. Add in enough water to cook the prawns and corn and let cook until corn has become soft and prawns have turned to a pale shade of pink. *Because prawns cook rather fast you may want to pre-soak your corn before cooking so as not to overcook the prawns. Also if you want this dish to have more of a sauce like texture then a soupy like one, try thickening the broth with a bit of coconut paste while the prawns and corn are cooking on a low heat.
This soup is very spicy and tasty, especially if you go through the trouble of using whole prawns and pealing the meat out of them once they’ve been cooked. There’s a lot of flavor in the heads that cannot be recreated with pre-pealed prawns. Also we ate this for breakfast the next morning, and after pealing them we reheated them and the flavor was simply delicious. This dish is best served over a bowl of steamed rice.
Happy cooking and hope you enjoy :)
Our departure from Munnar is scheduled for next Wednesday, February 3rd. We are heading to the nearest train station In Ernakulum by bus and are hoping to stay with our Indian family in fort Cochin for the night to catch our train by 5:50am the next morning; the train station is less then 15km from their home, so it seems like our best bet. The ride is about 13 hours from Ernakulum to Goa and we will be traveling in a sleeper car, we are so excited about this I doubt either of us will find much time for sleep, but even still, I’m glad for it as I’ve heard the trains can get extremely packed and become very uncomfortable. Our decision to head to Goa was inspired by an article I had saved on my computer from my previous semester’s research. It spoke of the Portuguese food identity found particularly and only in the state of Goa. India has had many invaders and much can be said of any one of them and what they’ve left behind, but what caught my attention about the Portuguese invaders was that in regards to food, their influence proved so strong and complimentary to that of the local food that centuries after their departure, unique dishes, found nowhere else in India, are still served at large throughout the state today. It is said that some of these invaders never left because of this, and it is known that the Indians of Goa are slightly lightly in appearance then most others found in Southern India. I found this tidbit of food history fascinating and reason enough to check it out for myself. This is why we are heading to Goa instead of Mangalore for the time being. We have booked a room at a homestay in a local village only a few dozen km from the main city. Staying in any major metropolitan area will be a whole lot more expensive then staying in the outskirts, and personally I rather enjoy village life much more then city life. The people are more personal, humble, and curious of us, making the otherwise uncanny encounters with them all the more frequent. Staying in Munnar has made this apparent to us, and I would even say that much of the experiences I’ve had here, with the people, may very well make up for the lack of research I’ve managed to attain. They have perhaps taught me the exact aim of my first months assignment, which was to find and place myself into the cultural context that surrounds me; which I must admit has not been difficult in the least. Indians are by far some of the friendliest people I’ve ever had the opportunity to meet. They have an energy about them that I cannot say I’ve ever experienced with any other type or group of people before. As populated as their country has become and as hurriedly as their major cities attempt to modernize the masses, the humble attitudes of the everyday people remain peaceful and grateful for what this live has provided them. There is a tale in ancient Indian mythology that speaks of the voyage of death, and in understanding it is easy to see why so many Indians live happily even when subject to grave poverty. It is told that life and death is circular and possibly everlasting, thus what one life accomplishes in a moment is but a piece of what its entire life’s accomplishments will amount to at its end. The ultimate journey across the river will be the final journey towards death, and can only come upon the soul who’s fulfilled his/hers entire life’s intent. If there has ever been a belief I’ve ever believed more strongly in, it is this, as it reminds me that no matter how much I feel I’ve failed in my endeavors, my efforts in attempting to do it at all will ultimately be what counts in the end. Both of mine and Ian’s greatest challenge as individuals in our fields has been remembering this, and we often feed off each others frustrations when we feel we’ve failed. Thankfully this week it has only been I whose felt disappointed, as he has been working with sounds he acquired from a church gathering last Sunday. Be watching for a couple of new song on his soundcloud (link is on our facebook)…I’m sure he’ll be publishing very soon.
This week has gone just as fast as the others with much of our time spent eating, people watching, eating, and movie watching. They sell some of the most awful bootleg movies here for less then a $1, that give us something to listen to while I play with my spices and Ian with his computer games. We have been coming in for the day much earlier then we have been mostly because the state of my stomach, but also because we find nothing left to do. One afternoon we found ourselves in a bar, for research purposes of course , that was located in a fancy guest house just a km up from town, affordable only by tourists, so I was less then hesitant to walk in. It was very dark and small, with a couple of men serving at the bar, and another few sitting and enjoying a couple of beers. I ordered a lime soda along with my shot of rum so that I could conceal the fact that I was drinking. I don’t think it was necessary as it is well known In India how much Americans like their drink. One man even told us that a shot of any hard liquor is called an American. This was amusing and yet a bit embarrassing all the same. As we started on our first drink an older British Gentleman approached us and asked if he could join us in conversation. He seemed nice enough, not as offensive as many of the European travelers we’ve stumbled across, and eventually proved to be quite the interesting character. He was traveling by motorbike across the state with his 80 year old father and was all too happy to have conversation with someone much younger; He said we made him miss his wife who he had met in India 10 years prior. We discussed everything from religion to food, politics to Indian hospitality and eventually called it a night. He paid the entirety of our bill and told us we were two of the most positive people he had ever met. It has been a comforting thought to see and know that our intentions our felt and understood by most everyone we meet here, Indian and non-Indian alike. It makes me think that we all need to be a bit nicer to each other, as it comes as too much of a surprise to too many a people when you simply treat them like a human being. Just yesterday Ian had asked if the young man that runs the internet café we frequent would help him out with some music for his recordings. He copied him over 150 songs and when we offered to pay him he simply said “for you, nothing.” We always take off our shoes when we enter his station, even if the others haven’t, and we always say hello to him and ask him how he is when we pass him in town. These seemingly simply offerings of acknowledgment have made all the difference to him, and he now treats us like friends. He always offers us the most genuine smiles when we enter and when we leave, and we do just the same In return. I can truly say that kindness transposes translation, and I know it has been our efforts in doing so that have gotten us as far as we’ve come.
Most everyone we’ve purchased parcels from in town recognizes us and says hello to Ian by name. I don’t think it is culturally acceptable to do the same with me, as I am a woman, but their smiles let me know I’ve at least been acknowledged. The young girls and men love Ian here, and seem to find him irresistibly attractive. It is utterly hilarious to see them giggle and talk amongst themselves as we pass by. He loves to think when it is a group of young men that they are looking at me, but on more then one occasion it has obviously been him that they favor. And although by our cultural standards this might sound homosexual, here it is obvious that the relationships shared between men are just as publicly affectionate, if not more so, as those shared between heterosexual couples back home. I have yet to see a man and woman being affectionate in public, and so my assumption is that men’s pent up desires for touch are thus given to their best friends, their brothers, and their male classmates instead. They hold hands, hug each other, put their arms around each other as they walk, and even caress each others faces. It’s always a bit amusing for us, but we’ve noticed that it is actually used as a tactic to get attention from the opposite sex. This is especially apparent in the school yards and wherever large groups of young hormone driven teens conjugate. It has definitely been something to get use to, but I must admit that the innocence of it all it rather refreshing to see from a sex that is so subjected to masculinity back home. Makes me think that many of the feminists that claim the male sex as polar opposite to that of females have never traveled outside the confines of their own cultures biases.
My favorite days spent here have been those where we simply just people watch. It is amazing how comforting it can be just sitting amongst a wave of people coexisting around you, living and thriving for reasons that would seem infinite to one minds understanding. I’ve always prided myself on never having had the ache of homesickness, but I must admit that I, as well as Ian, have definitely been feeling the pangs of it as of late. Little things brings memories of my mom to mind, like the smell the masa from the bread here I love so much, or the way I clean and recycle my plastic zip lock bags. Every lounging farmer, tired and beat from a hard days labor, seems to remind me of my dad and his one simple wish to eventually live and subsist simply, amongst a world that he knows has grown far too complicated. Even the small trash bin in our bathroom reminds me of my brother, and his favorite seat in our parent’s kitchen, the trashcan. Every time I crush garlic or make my strawberry preserve I am reminded of how simple it was to make him smile with just a smell and a taste. Just yesterday morning Ian got a bit angry with me for having woken him from a dream he was having where in which him and his mom were spending time together, discussing what they should eat for lunch of course, just the two of them. Often times the strangest things will trigger a long held memory, for instance the sight of the young boy and his father that live just below our homestay, tending their land, always reminds Ian of the days he used to spend helping his own dad destroy and tend the unruly landscape that used to surround their house. He’ll recall everything in an instant as though it were only yesterday. He has by far had the pangs a bit worse then I; especially since our last few months were spent living at his parent’s. He says he can’t wait to walk down the street with his arms around his brothers, like they do here, so be prepared Sebastian and Chub. It seems everyday brings a reminder of someone from back home, and although we regret not being able to speak to everyone on a more personal basis, I hope you all know that our memories of you are bringing us more comfort then you can possibly imagine. My professor warned me that the third week of field work is usually the hardest, and I can’t help but realize just how right she was. For me, I know it has a lot to do with the beauty that makes this place what it is that makes me miss and wish I could share it with everyone I love back home. My pictures and words can only convey my own interpretations, but to get them for yourself is always a completely different and worthy reality. I can only hope that what I’ve shared will have you as my reader inspired to see it all for yourself. But, there is still much exploration left for me to do, and many more stories left for me to hear and share with you, so for now I’ll leave you with a bit of my culinary experimentations to play with until next time. Namaste and we love and miss you all…
Magdalena prawn soup
This little recipe was born out of an attempt to satisfy Ian’s overwhelming hunger for large amounts of seafood. The recipe is for 1kg of prawns, so make sure you have friends to share it with.
Ingredients
Prawns 1 kg
Corn 2 ears, cut in quarters
Butter 1/3 cup
Garlic (8) 4 minced, 4 crushed
Coconut Oil 2 tbsp
Mustard Seeds 1 tsp.
Fenugreek 1 tsp.
Ginger 1” piece, minced
Dry chilly pepper 2, roughly chopped
Curry leaves 2 sprigs, about 15 leaves
Shallots Large handful, chopped+ 5-6 to throw in whole
Turmeric powder 1 ½ tbsp
Chilly powder 1 tbsp or to taste
Coriander powder 2 tbsp
Garam Masala 1 tbsp
Salt to taste
Pepper to taste
lemon juice to taste
Method
In a large sauce pan heat butter and sauté minced garlic until slightly browned, adding salt to taste; set aside in a separate bowl. In the same pan heat up the coconut oil and add the mustard seeds and fenugreek until they splutter, add in ginger, dry red chillies, curry leaves, and chopped shallots and sauté until the shallots have become almost transparent. Add in turmeric, chilly, coriander, garam masala, salt, and pepper and sauté for a few moments more. Turn off the heat and add in the butter garlic sauce, the remaining garlic cloves, lemon juice and a small cup of water. Add In the prawns and chopped ears of corn and mix well with the sauce, let sit for at least ½ hour. Add in enough water to cook the prawns and corn and let cook until corn has become soft and prawns have turned to a pale shade of pink. *Because prawns cook rather fast you may want to pre-soak your corn before cooking so as not to overcook the prawns. Also if you want this dish to have more of a sauce like texture then a soupy like one, try thickening the broth with a bit of coconut paste while the prawns and corn are cooking on a low heat.
This soup is very spicy and tasty, especially if you go through the trouble of using whole prawns and pealing the meat out of them once they’ve been cooked. There’s a lot of flavor in the heads that cannot be recreated with pre-pealed prawns. Also we ate this for breakfast the next morning, and after pealing them we reheated them and the flavor was simply delicious. This dish is best served over a bowl of steamed rice.
Happy cooking and hope you enjoy :)
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