snapshots from India

Just got back from a 2-week trip to India in December/January. We made it back home towards the end of this epic polar vortex, so thankfully we didn't experience significant delays coming back.

We traveled to Jaipur, which is in the state of Rajasthan in northwest India.

We took a train ride first from A.'s hometown to Sawai Madhopur, which took close to 6 hours. Traveling by train in India is an experience. It's the real-deal India, A. says. In my opinion, it's where you experience the fervor and intensity of India. I don't know if fervor and intensity are the best words to capture it, but it's how I (as an outsider) would describe the experience. You take it all in - the rush, the crowds, the sounds, the sights, the fully saturated colors.

As we went farther away from the city and into the countryside, I saw this for miles and miles:

(Side note: I believe that is A.'s niece you hear talking in the video. She loves the expression "Arrey!" - their equivalent of "Hey!")

The yellow flowers are the flowers of the mustard plant. Indian cuisine relies heavily on the tadka, which refers to spices - including black mustard seed - tempered in hot oil. Tadka is then added to flavor dishes such as dal (lentils), vegetable stir-fries, and stews.

We spent one night in Sawai Madhopur:

India has no shortage of forts, one of which being Ranthambore Fort. While exploring the fort, we were treated to this beautiful sunset:
I saw an area that has multiple piles of rocks. I asked A. what they were, and he said that they symbolized people's wishes and prayers. People would pile rocks into these tower-like formations, as you can see below.

I saw a man and a woman who seemed that the were measuring something on the ground using the length of their bodies. It was something I had never seen before. A. explained that some people pray so fervently and promise God that if their prayer is answered, they would travel the entire length of the fort all the way to the temple at the end, not on foot but by laying on the ground. The man and the woman each laid down on his/her side, extended an arm up to mark the spot, then stood up and laid down again starting from the spot where their hand reached (does that make sense? I thought of taking a video, but decided against it as I thought it may be disrespectful - it seemed like such a sacred act). They did this again and again, as they promised. It's indescribable, and yet again an illustration of the fervor and intensity of India.   

The next morning we went on an animal safari from an open truck. It was so cold that we bundled up in our jackets, shawls, and woolen blankets. We saw deer, spotted deer, and antelope. Unfortunately I don't have a lens with good enough zoom for wildlife photography, so I don't have visuals to share on that one...

We then drove about 3 hours to Jaipur, where we spent 4 days. I loved the many patterns and colors in the decor of our hotel:

Aside from forts, India has no shortage of palaces either, particularly those built during the Mughal empire.

 

Apparently, I have a thing for doors, windows, and arches. But how could you not with such amazing architecture?

A.'s niece and nephew

A random window, spotted while driving in Jaipur:

Another illustration of the vibrant color in India:

This was my first Christmas spent away from my immediate family. Prior to the trip, I wondered what Christmas would be like in India. My in-laws, once again, continue to amaze me with their graciousness. My sister-in-law and niece chose a Christmas present for me, a figurine of the Blessed Mother and Child. They even took me to church for Christmas.

On our previous trip to India in 2012, we went to Agra and visited (yet another) fort/palace built during the Mughal empire. (I realize I haven't even organized my pictures from last year's trip!) There was a pillar that caught my attention, due to its many intricate patterns.

The guide explained, each row of patterns symbolizes one of the world's great religions (in no particular order): Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam. Each pattern was so intricate, so precise - the level of detail is just incredible. The Mughal emperor at the time was a progressive-minded one, to showcase a design that captured the great religions in a pillar supporting a structure. Quite symbolic.

The names of the forts, palaces, emperors, and other historical details all start to blur for me, but what struck me most is this idea of connection. It's all there - the connections, the sameness - as A. and I figure out our interfaith life, it's all about the connections between the unique histories and cultures of our respective families.

"Travel is not always about newness, sometimes the beauty of travel is in discovering connections rather than the differences." - Eram Agha

is it only Monday? (and, reminiscing a family lunch in the Philippines)

First working day of the week, and I'm already tired. Is that what happens when you approach your mid-thirties?

I shudder just saying that. Mid-thirties.

I could use some of this in my life right now:

chocolate souffle | Antonio's, Tagaytay, Philippines

And this:

Chocolate and coffee should give me more energy, right? Right. Of course.  ;-)

Looking at these photos, I'm remembering the lovely lunch I had with my family back home. It was in this place called Antonio's, and it is a beautiful, old (but maintained/restored) Spanish-Filipino style house with a lush tropical garden.

My brother and sister-in-law had their wedding reception here - I still regret not being able to go home for that milestone of an event - I didn't have my green card yet at the time, and my family told me not to leave the US and risk not being able to re-enter. So I was happy to be able to finally see the place.

More details...

 I loved being able to see everything so GREEN in December.

And then I remembered, that's what I grew up with 23 years of my life. Funny how being away changes one's perspective so much. I saw these sun-dappled patches with new eyes.

 Glorious sunlight. Yes, this is what December looks like in the Philippines.

More details...

She-and-He labels for restrooms

And A. having a moment with my niece P.

And let's not forget the food...interestingly, this was one of the few non-Filipino meals I had during our trip.

I don't eat a ton of cheese on a regular basis, so the raclette was a treat. The pickled vegetables cut through the richness of the cheese, which was a nice contrast. Of course, you can't go wrong with buttered and toasted baguette. I'm also not a huge fan of kohlrabi, but the soup was quite good.

L: raclette; R: cream of kohlrabi soup

Salads, below. I made it a point to eat kesong puti (this amazing creamy local cheese) every chance I got. I kind of met my cheese quota at this point already with the raclette I had prior, but what the heck...

L: baked kesong puti with arugula; R: mesclun with gorgonzola

And the rest of our meal... between courses, we had a pineapple sorbet, followed by the main course, which A. and I shared. And yes, I ate chicken. I believe it was a local chicken. Don't worry, I didn't go all Portlandia on the server (and if you haven't seen that video, it is hilarious). That said, in the interest of full disclosure, I did eat chicken during this trip - there were some traditional dishes that you just can't get anywhere else. This one was quite good (but not quiiiite the best) - crispy outside and juicy inside... accompanied by a romesco sauce and the creamiest, most indulgent risotto. Yum.

Quite obviously, there was no shortage of chocolate.

Clockwise from left: chocolate souffle with cardamom creme anglaise, muscovado sugar, coffee from local beans, a trio of panna cotta - chocolate, hazelnut, and vanilla, and another chocolate dessert with pistachios

And on that note... I need to prepare dinner now. Except it's our usual bean-and-vegetable dinner (tonight it's a Greek lima bean stew and caramelized brussels sprouts), and nothing like this decadence... and just a quiet table for two at home, not a long table for 8-10 like the many family meals shared during our trip.

In the meantime, I am wishing for this right now:

(See the word I'm thinking of?)

bits and pieces of home

I'm not a good storyteller.

I don't remember details of what was said by whom and how it was said and when.... much to my mother's chagrin when she wants to hear juicy stories of moments like when A. proposed and what-not. My mom, on the other hand, remembers everything, from the exact words to the speaker's intonation. In contrast, I might remember a few quick conversational exchanges at the most, but that's about it. I do have a really good memory for strange purposes/things like restaurant menus. Don't judge.

All that said, I don't have a long story of my trip to India and the Philippines. My amazing, month-long, 12-airports-in-30-days trip.

What I do remember, are images. Moments captured either on camera, but mostly those that are in a freeze-frame in my mind. And I remember, with clarity, what I felt at the time.

So my stories might come in short bursts here in there. Not necessarily in chronological order.

Even this post took me several "installments" to write, because the stories come back when I least expect it, and not in any linear fashion. So I write in bits and pieces, what I remember and when I remember it. And I write, so that I can remember.

(And also, I had to hit the ground running as the semester started a couple of days after I arrived back here... hence having to write in small chunks of time here and there.)

I surprised myself by not taking as many pictures as I thought I would on this trip, especially in the Philippines. Under other circumstances, photography helps me appreciate the moment and pay attention to details. But a big part of me wanted to just soak it all in, and not behind a camera. With the thinking that the several seconds or that minute I spend getting the settings on my camera just right for each shot adds up, over the course of a month and hundreds of pictures, to potentially hours spent not being fully present with my family. 

~

I remember this tug at my heartstrings watching my sweet niece P. Thinking about how fast she's growing, and how she sometimes talks like an adult even at age 4. How she asked me to read the book I gave her, The Princess and the Pizza (in which the heroine has the same name as she! And as a side note, I love the feminist perspective of the story), again and again during a road trip. And how affectionate she is to everyone, randomly giving hugs, kisses, and I-love-yous to any member of the family, including A.

my niece's naturally wavy ponytail

Oh, and I do remember this one brief exchange as retold by my brother (her dad).

One morning, while we were vacationing in Cebu (a city south of the capital, Manila), P wakes up, and with her eyes half-closed she stretches in bed, and sleepily says: "I love Tito A." (as in my husband A.). Mind you., A. wasn't even with us at the time, because he had to fly home to Cleveland sooner. And then, almost like she suddenly remembered, her eyes open fully and she sees my brother standing in front of her. Then quickly, she says:

"Oh, I love you too, Dad."

Nice save, P. :)

And it made me reminisce with my parents, those days when my nephews (now pre-teens... how did that happen?) were babies. And my other 4-year-old niece's voice mail saying, "Hi Tita Mia, I'm big now, I'm going to school."

~

I remember both the warmth that accompanies that trip-down-memory-lane, as well as the slight ache in my belly (that is where I feel things, you know. Again... don't judge) as I pored over old photos of my late grandparents, framed and preserved in my parents' home. The home I grew up in.

Like this one. My grandfather, the perfect example of "chivalry is not dead" -- even as they were approaching 90 (!) -- asked my mom to set up a candelit dinner for two in our gazebo for their 60+ wedding anniversary.

One of my parents snapped this picture then, and while I did not witness this moment in person, it made me remember all his other romantic gestures toward my grandma. Like quoting Shakespeare to her, out of the blue, as they sat in our lanai overlooking the garden, resting after a long afternoon of tending to their flowers and plants.

~

I remember, with the same clarity as the turquoise waters of Boracay, a shift in perspective.

Under other circumstances, work fills my mind majority of the time. And yes, you'll probably hate me for this but I did work a bit while I was away - I had to finish grading in India because we flew out the very next day after my last day of teaching. Then twice I had to wake up for 2 am conference calls for my new consulting job, to speak to people who did not know I was away and in a completely opposite time zone. But I did not work much else aside from that. It was refreshing to not have work occupy so much space in my brain, and instead linger at the breakfast table.

Work is a means to an end, not an end in itself.

I know, it's nothing groundbreaking. And while I always knew that, I felt it even more strongly with the limited time I had with my family. And what a blessing that was. Yes, working is what pays the bills and helps us travel, and we are absolutely thankful for that. But the bigger picture, really, is family...and old friends who are practically family. Nurturing those relationships that enrich our lives like nothing else does.

Not all my projects, each at a different stage toward completion. Not the fact that I need to get my manuscript published. They always say in the world of academia, "publish or perish". But in the bigger picture, it's really not the end of the world.

But my niece will only be 4 years old once. And I will only stand at this exact spot at this exact time on this exact date once in my life.

Boracay, Philippines

It is a gift.

~

*For a detailed review of the foodie experience in the Philippines, from the unique perspective of an Indian national-US citizen-current resident of Germany-honorary Filipina (whew!), visit my friend's blog post here.

*I also have India on my mind. But those stories will come in bits and pieces as well. More on that later.

*Tito = Uncle, Tita = Aunt

Manila (Philippines) on my mind

Aaaand we're back.

I have so much to write about, but my thoughts are still in random snippets of words and images. Images that may or may not have made it into my camera, but rather images stored in my mind. Sensations, emotions, and thoughts that are not quite coherent yet.

About how traveling reminds me just how startlingly beautiful this world is.

The colors of the sky viewed from the window of the airplane... God's brushstrokes on his infinite canvas.

The endless expanse of varying shades of blue, the perfection of sea meeting sky. The magic of a sandbar - a narrow strip of white sand which, for a few fleeting hours, felt like our own private island before it disappeared into the water.

The dewy scent of the lush tropical garden in my parents' home, the home where I grew up. If green had a scent, this would be it.

The almost intoxicating fragrance of a ripe Philippine mango, which I ate everyday like it was a gift.

The genuine embrace from the little arms of a 4-year-old.

The warmth of my mother's hands... though they look different, they feel exactly the same to me as they did 25 or 15 or 5 years ago.

Reuniting with childhood friends... picking up where we left off as though no time has passed. And noticing how we laugh just like our teenage selves did many years ago, but we speak with more wisdom and maturity.

The comforting feeling of HOME. Of FAMILY. Of shared meals, memories, and yes, dare I say even the notorious Manila traffic jam.

...Ok, maybe not the Manila traffic.

sandbar off the coast of Cebu | photo by my brother Carlo

I've still got sand in my shoes
And I can't shake the thought of you

- Dido

sharing traditions

Last Tuesday, my husband and I celebrated Diwali. Diwali, also known as the "festival of lights", is one of the most important festivals in the Hindu tradition. One of the rituals is to workship Lakshmi, who is the goddess of wealth.

my husband's altar, with the lit "dia" (oil lamp)

As we are a half-Indian/half-Filipino household, my husband and I have been celebrating each other's traditions. I sit beside him as he says his prayers for blessings for ourselves, our families, and loved ones. And beside him, I pray in my own Catholic tradition for blessings as well.

As we have been married only... let's see, about 1 1/2 years / about 1 year and 2 months / 6 months--based on our legal, Catholic, and Hindu ceremonies, respectively (Confused yet? Yes, it sounds wedding-crazy but believe me we are sensible people!) -- we are figuring out our interfaith marriage as we go forward. Our individual spirituality is something important to both of us, and something each of us respected in the other. As I look back, getting married in each other's tradition perhaps has marked the beginning of something that will evolve into this shared spirituality.

We don't have it all figured out yet, especially when the time comes for us to start talking about having a family. I don't know what it will look like in the future, but this I know....

I am reminded, yet again, of what the poet Rumi wrote:

"There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground." 

one year later...

...and I grow more and more thankful each day.

September 24th, 2011

I never felt magic crazy as this

I never saw moons, knew the meaning of the sea

I never held emotion in the palm of my hand

Or felt sweet breezes in the top of the tree

But now you're here, brighten my northern sky

- Northern Sky by Nick Drake, 1948-1974
(the song for our first dance)

Every day I have with you as a gift.




Happy anniversary, A.
You brighten my sky.

~

All photos captured by a dear friend, Debra-Lynn Hook

Paulina the Mechanic

Paulina, age 3. Photo by Debra-Lynn Hook

 My brother Carlo emailed me this story this morning. It was the best start to my day. In his words:

Paulina the Mechanic

This morning, my car battery died.  I borrowed my Dad's car and got the battery replaced under warranty.  After they replaced it, I had to go back to my parents' house to pick up my Dad so we could both get the car and I'd then drive my car home.

My Dad and I were by the driveway already when I heard Paulina running after me from inside the house.  She opened the door and looked at me with beaming eyes, "Daddy, I have the battery!!"  Clasped tightly in her tiny hand was one Energizer AA battery.  "Will this work?" she asked.  "We can try," I said. She asked to come along so I took her with me. 

When I entered my car, Paulina gave me the AA battery and told me to try it.  I put it inside the car ashtray then turned the ignition switch.  When the engine started, Paulina just gasped in excitement - "It worked Daddy!!!"  

Despite the hassle and stress of what happened, Paulina had her way of cheering me up.  I drove home with a wide grin on my face. 

I had a good day after all.

~ 

The sweet innocence of children... always a reminder of all that is good and hopeful and special in this world. I miss my nephews and nieces... sigh. They just grow too fast.

Thank you Carlo for sharing this! I hope this story also gives you a great start to your weekend!

lessons from India

I'm savoring a little quiet time now, to finally write after the many thoughts and emotions are now settling down, like residual tea leaves on the bottom of a teacup.  I thought I'd list some of my observations about this new place that I've learned about...

Lesson #1: Personal space does not exist. And it's nothing personal.

We arrived in Mumbai, India late in the evening of May 5th. We took a car to the hotel we had booked for a little respite (and much-needed shower) so that we could feel a bit more refreshed before our next flight early the next morning. After having experienced  the relatively more orderly roads and highways in the US, driving in India to me felt like absolute mayhem. I thought I wouldn't be surprised by it given the traffic conditions I was used to growing up in Manila. But this was an entirely different beast. Given my anxious tendencies, I don't think I would have it in me to drive here. I don't think the video below fully captures it (this was not in Mumbai but in a smaller city) but you'll hear lots of honking. I think this shows the traffic conditions on a good (unusual) day. I wish I took a video in Mumbai... but I was so overwhelmed coming out of the airport after a long-haul flight.

But somehow, it works. Even if only a mosquito could fit between your car and the pedestrian, or the rickshaw, or motorcycle, or the other car. Somehow, people get to where they need to be. It means though that you hear someone honking his horn probably every 1.32 seconds. Which is why this truck - like many I saw on the road - has a sign that reads "BLOW HORN" - to let them know you are near.

Also, when lining up for anything (e.g. security checks at the airport) you are left with very little space between your backside and the person behind you. But again - somehow, it just works.

Lesson #2: Everything starts with a cup of tea.

Chai, as they call it. Not "chai tea," by the way because chai = tea. (One of the things A. explained to me years ago, in my first immersion into Indian culture when I met - and made friends with - Indians at U.C.)

The day starts with chai in the morning. And again in the afternoon. And maybe even sometime before or after dinner. And if a guest drops by, that warrants another cup. Indians can have chai even on the hottest summer day.

Oh, and it's not in supersized cups mugs bowls as we have gotten used to in coffee shops around here. They are in small, demitasse-size cups, like the one above.

Even when we shopped for saris, the shopkeeper offered us some chai.

My mother-in-law makes chai with black tea, fresh milk (delivered every morning!), sugar, and a little grated ginger.

Lesson #3: The many ways to make Indian bread, given an addition of an ingredient or two and a change in the rolling technique or cooking method.

Roti. Naan. Paratha. Puri.

roti dough resting before being rolled out

If it's cooked over the stove - dry - then it's roti.

roti cooked in a tawa (flat pan)

They also put the roti directly over the fire so that it gets nice deep brown marks. Then it puffs up and then flattens again.

If it's rolled with ghee (clarified butter), folded, then rolled again (usually into a triangle shape, but they also make other interesting shapes like spiral ones), and then cooked over the stove with ghee - then it's paratha. Paratha can also be stuffed with a variety of ingredients like spiced potatoes, paneer (homemade cheese), or methi (fenugreek). Plain parathas with sauteed vegetables is the typical breakfast.

paratha

(Oh, and when I offered my first paratha to my father-in-law, he gave me 100 rupees as a little gift, as is their tradition. :) )

If it's deep fried, then it's puri.

If it's cooked in a clay oven, it's naan. And most interesting of all:

If it's mixed with ghee, shaped into a mound (instead of rolled flat), cooked in boiling water and then cooked on the ambers of dried cow dung, it's called bafla.

bafla, in the center of the plate

Lesson #4: Rolling round rotis. 

This requires an artful technique of being able to respond to the dough with just the right touch, pressure, and weight on the rolling pin. Knowing what side of the rolling pin on which to put more weight - ever so slightly - so that the dough, slowly becoming flatter and thinner, almost moves in a circle as you roll.

 Mine would never come out perfectly round, but my mother-in-law's and sister-in-law's rotis always do (as you can see above). Then again, they do make this every single day.

Lesson #5: Slow food.

It seemed like there was something going on in the kitchen ALL the time. Everything was made from scratch. Without a recipe, just by feel.

My mother-in-law takes the cream that settles on the top of the container of fresh milk that they get delivered every morning. She collects the cream for 14 days until she has enough, then she makes butter out of it. Then she clarifies it to make ghee. I wasn't there long enough to see the process happen... maybe next time.

They also make their own chutneys, crunchy snacks for the kids, fruit drinks, desserts...in addition to 3 meals and a tea time snack.

Lesson #6: Seeing my husband play with his niece and nephew, and hearing him change his voice to a child-like voice to talk to them - it makes my heart skip a beat.

Not that I was all that surprised.

(This is not the sweetest photo I have of A. playing with his nephew and niece, but he's a bit iffy about having his pictures posted here - unless it's a not-so-in-your-face angle like this one)


Lesson #7: Quote from A.: "Indians live for 3 things. Weddings, Bollywood, and cricket."

Our wedding #3 was an amazing experience. There were 700 people! Which, believe it or not, is small by Indian standards; A.'s older brother had over 2,000 people.

No, that is not a Bollywood set or concert stage that we happened to stumble upon and re-purpose for our wedding. It's an actual "wedding stage" - in which the couple greets the 700 (or 3,000, as the case may be) guests who come up to the stage to extend their wishes and offer presents.

And - the brighter the better. The more colorful, the better. 

Lesson #8: Bring on the bling.

Married women have to have a number of things on them to signify that they are married. The bhindi (on the forehead), the bangles on both arms, the mangal sutra (necklace with black beads), paayal (ankle bracelets) and the toe rings. Whew! Quite a departure from my usual minimal accessorizing.

Not just for a wedding...

thank goodness these are not real diamonds

 But even on a regular day.

glass bangles

Lesson #9: Learning Hindi

Hindi is a pretty complex language to me. Like French and Spanish, a "gender" is assigned to things and that changes how the word is spoken/written. Also, names for respect (Chachi/Chacha for aunt and uncle, respectively) are different depending on whether they are from your mother's side of the family or your father's side of the family.  If they are from the father's side, then they are "Kaki/Kaka." And the "Chachi" is spoken after the name. Unlike in English, in which I would be "Aunt Mia", or in Filipino "Tita Mia" - in India, I am "Mia Chachi".

I did well with food names though. Those were easy for me to learn, as I had known them since I started eating out at Indian restaurants in the US, and cooking Indian food at home with A.

Also, the sounds are so different. Some sounds are very nasal in nature, some come from touching the tongue to your upper palate a certain way, some require letting out an almost-exhale, for example when an /h/ follows a consonant. I'm not doing the best job at explaining this. But my sister-in-law, who I call Bhabi (respect for older sister), gets amused at how I attempt to make these sounds. She studied linguistics though, so she was an excellent teacher. Oh, and "Bhabi" is an example - the /bh/ sound is not like a regular /b/. You also somehow pronounce the /h/ next to it, in a subtle way.

And the word kadhi, for example, which is a yogurt-based dish that I like. I can't ever say it right. The /dh/ sound seems to be a pretty common one in their language, so it's a sound I've been practicing even before going to India - much to A.'s amusement. It's the one where you roll your tongue gently against your upper palate.

I think I did an ok job learning Hindi, for a visit that was under 2 weeks. Talking to the kids helped. I brought some (English) picture books for them, and I learned some animal names as a result of listening to them label the pictures in Hindi.

I love it when A.'s 2-year-old nephew warmed up to me and started talking to me like we were having an actual conversation. "Mia-Chachi, Mia-Chachi!!! ..........................(insert a whole string of words I can't understand).............hai na? (isn't it?) -- to which I would say, "accha" (ok) or "ha" (yes). He would tell me whole stories like this, in the cutest little voice ever.

The problem is, the early childhood educator in me would come out and feel regret about not being able to facilitate conversation, expand on his developing language, etc etc etc... Oh well.

Oh, wait - I'm the one trying to develop language here.

I need to start practicing those sounds more. A little trivia: we are actually born with the potential in our brains to make all these sounds; it's just that we only make the synaptic connections to make the sounds we hear in our native language. Which is why children can learn 2 languages simultaneously - because their brains are getting wired early on to be able to recognize the nuances of sounds in different languages and make the sounds to form words and eventually sentences. The infant brain is an amazing, amazing thing. I hope our future children learn all 3 languages (English, Filipino, Hindi).

After 33 years, I hope I can make more synaptic connections...


Lesson #10: Quote from Dadi, A's grandmother: "A human being is a human being."

I feel so incredibly grateful for being warmly accepted by his family, despite the fact that I am the first foreign person in not just his immediate family, but extended family as well.

What Dadi said above (which she of course spoke in Hindi, and A. translated), is something she told him long ago when he first told her about me - a non-Indian of a different culture, religion, and language.

I remember crying upon hearing this, touched by what she said.

Prior to meeting Dadi in person, I actually met her on a Skype video call - in which she blew me a kiss. So sweet.

During my visit, she talked to me in Hindi all the time, and I could only nod, smile, and say "ha" (yes) or "accha" (ok). I think she was giving me advice. All I know for sure is that it was said in a kind, loving voice, as she always touched my cheek or gently or gave me a sincere squeeze with each hug.

Here she is with my Mom...

A petite powerhouse, just like my Mom, wouldn't you think?

More details on the food and wedding #3 next time!