Chopsticks&Chai: May 2011

Desert Adventures

“Go right; follow Julian. I said right Mr. Laoloo, right.” Mr. Laoloo blinks, scratches his nose and continues to ignore me. He chomps on a tree and chews the twigs. He does this often. He chews almost as much as he farts. “Mr. Laoloo, we’re behind and need to catch up. GO RIGHT! Go, come on, you can do it. GO!” Mr. Laoloo continues to chew his twigs. Perhaps he’s deciding the best course of action for us, but I can’t leave it up to him. We’re far behind and Mr. Khan, my guide and camel driver extradonnaire, is telling me to hit him with the rope. “Hit him hard Terri, it’s okay. Give him a little massage with the rope", he says encouragingly. I hit Mr. Laoloo with the rope. He moves his right rear leg up to scratch his shoulder. I smile. At least he moved. Mr. Khan gives up on me as a camel driver and with a couple clicks of his tongue Mr. Laoloo jerks to life and trots off. Although short-lived, my career as a camel driver was exciting.

Mr. Laoloo and Papaya, Andrew's camel, with our guides.

Camels are amazing creatures. Come to think of it India has a lot of animals, most mundane than amazing, but they’re not confined to safe and comfortable zones like at home. So interacting with them is interesting and, at times, dangerous, especially on the streets. Besides dodging cars, auto or cycle rickshaws and people, you have to contend with animals.

Having been hit by an autorickshaw and a cow, I can honestly say the cow was scarier. The rickshaw at least attempted to avoid me, but on the narrow streets of Agra it still grazed my arm, shoulder and side. The cow, on the other hand, purposely, and, perhaps with malice, swung its head horn first and jabbed my purse (leather!). The lifesaving three inch thick copy of Lonely Planet India was the victim of that menace’s horn. Had the book not lied in my purse, unaware of the beating it took, I can only imagine what damage that horn would’ve caused me!

Now, as a general precaution, I dodge dogs, cats, rats, pigs, monkeys, pigeons, and goats. I avoid cows, mules, and horses. Although it’s rare to see them, I still avoid the working elephants and camels, especially after the incident with the bovine. With a horn in my side, so to speak, it was with some reluctance that I rode on Mr. Laoloo. My reluctance eased once I met him. He was calm, itchy, gassy and, best of all, horn free.

My noble steed: Mr. Laoloo!

It’s a reasonable assumption that riding a camel will be similar to riding a horse; however, it’s much different. Going up and down on a camel is an interesting experience. To stand up, the camel uses its front legs, first, left than right. Then, it lifts its hind legs. It is rocky going up and stomach cringing going down. But I got used to it. Although the ride on a camel isn’t as smooth as on a horse, the view is incomparable. From my new nine foot perspective, I saw herds of goats and sheep graze, small deer and mice hide from the sun and acres of scrub land spotted with wind turbines.

The highlight of our Camel Safari was sleeping on the Thali sand dune. We slept underneath the stars and the moon shone so bright that it hardly seemed like night time. The sand peaks looked a brilliant gold in the morning light.

Thali Sand Dune

During breakfast, Mr. Khan asked us if we wanted a short or long ride that morning. We answered short. He said he knew a short cut and we would ride for an hour and a half. My groin was thanking him for that. The so-called short cut was going the same way but at a gallop. Camels, according to Mr. Khan, can go thirty kilometers per hour. It felt more like sixty as we galloped through the Great Thar desert.

In the land that evokes images of exotic Arabian nights, adventures of Aladdin and fierce Rajput warriors, it was amazing to be riding on the beast that helped people bring all these adventures to life. Camels: magnificent, powerful, and mild mannered creatures. I loved my time with the ship of the desert!

A Sunday Afternoon With the Rathores

I love food; eating it and cooking it. Both bring me pleasure. Having taking cooking lessons in Korea and Thailand, I was excited to try my hand at Indian food. So on a Sunday afternoon I went to the Rathores for a cooking lesson. The Rathores are relatives of the owner of a guesthouse I was staying at in Udaipur. They were gracious enough to have me to their home to cook some family recipes and eat with them.

The Rathore's cows

Mr. Rathore picks me up and we head to his home. Like most urban Indians they live in townhouses. I follow Mr. Rathore into the courtyard and am not surprised by what I see. The courtyard is run by cows. Mr. Rathore proudly shows them to me. They have one female and two calves. They get milk from them to make curd. “Plus they bring good luck,” Mr. Rathore states. We go upstairs and I meet the family: Kiran, the mother; Priyal, their daughter; and Rasheesh, their son. What's on the menu? A simple thali meal of tomato and eggplant curry, masala stuffed okra, dal, vegetable pakora, chapatti, puri, and pakothra, and, of course, masala chai. I can’t wait.

Okra, garlic and eggplant

I enter their apartment; it consists of two rooms. One is used by them to sleep and eat. The other is used to sleep and cook. In the first room there is a thin mat covering the concrete floor, we sit down side by side with the vegetables. And so the cooking begins. Kiran peels and cuts everything in her hand. From her magic hands, potato peels fall to the floor and chunks fall in bowls. I'm not nearly as efficient and find it difficult to cut the vegetables without a cutting board. Taking notice of my struggle, she puts me on garlic peeling duty with Priyal. While I crush garlic against the floor a "MooooOOHH," from the cow in the adjacent courtyard bellows in the room. Priyal and I giggle.

We chat and peel away. I drink chai with Kiran and she explains the recipes in Hindi while Priyal translates in English. If Priyal missed a step, Kiran is quick to scold her in Hindi and then correct in English. Kiran is a warm woman, but a stern mother. She insists that Rasheesh does his homework when he snoops on us. Priyal is a lovely young woman. At thirteen she knows she wants to be a teacher and plans to travel around India. I ask her if she wants to travel the world and she looks confused and replies, “No, I won’t travel the world. India is big enough and lots to see here, you know?” Yes, I do know. The vegetables are prepped and we move to the second room.

Kiran picking cilantro leaves

The second room is crowded. There is a twin size bed which takes up most of the space. Kiran, Priyal and I have a small hallway of space between the bed and gas box burner. Cooking utensils emerge from under the stove and bed. Ingredients are kept on shelves built in to the concrete walls. They have no sink or running water so the dishes are cleaned in a big bowl. Water is poured from a traditional matka, a large clay vase. I’m in awe of Kiran, as I see the two-burner gas box and the small space she has to prepare her family’s meals.

Priyal and Rasheesh

Her ingenuity is artful. She uses a mortar and pestle to grind onion, garlic, chillies and spices into a masala paste. She uses the paste to flavour the eggplant and tomato curry and stuff the okra. I help her make the paste and stuff the okra with it. We fry up the eggplant and tomato curry and put it in a bowl to rest. We use the same frying pan to cook the okra. “No space, no waste,” Kiran says firmly. Priyal smiles as she helps her mom. We use a pot to boil the lentils and, after a quick rinse, the same pot cooks the rice. We use flour, potato and cilantro to make a dough, and fry teaspoon size balls to make vegetable pakora. The same pan and oil is used to fry puri.

Vegetable pakora

Next we make the breads. One simple flour and water dough can make three breads. First, we make puri. We roll out a saucer size circle of dough, add some ghee on both sides and then deep fry it. It quickly puffs up and turns golden. Next, we make chapatti. We roll out another saucer size circle and then fry that without butter on the pan. It doesn't puff up but is still flaky inside and has nice dark spots on the outside. The last bread is pakothra. We roll out a saucer size circle but then fold it in half. Add some butter. Then fold it in a triangle. We roll it out so it looks like a rounded triangle. Add some more butter and then fry it on the pan. This one is flakier than the chapatti. All are delicious.

The never ending thali

Once our food is ready we had back to the first room. We set up plates for everyone and we eat Kiran’s food with our hands. Everything is delicious. It was finally my turn to impress the Rathores with how well I can eat with my hand. After eating, we drink chai and Priyal offers to paint my hand with henna. I agree and she creates a beautiful design. The cooking was great but it was the experience of being with an Indian family for an afternoon that was better.

The Taj Mahal

It's called the world's most beautiful building and a monument to love. What can one say about the Taj that hasn't already been said? I find words to describe this building meaningless; they fall short of capturing the graceful curves, strong marble, and eloquent lines of the building. The problem is you've seen the Taj many times: postcard perfect pics of it and the famous Princess Diana pose. In spite of this, the building is still stunning.

Here are some interesting facts about the Taj Mahal. The Mughal Emperor Shan Jahan built the mausoleum for his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Unfortunately, he was jailed in nearby Agra Fort by his son where he overlooked the masterpiece from his cell until his death. Another interesting fact about the Taj is that it has surprisingly great acoustics. To impress the tourists, Taj tour-guides sing or say 'hello' which echo up the famous marble dome.

I'm going to keep this post short and let the pictures do the talking, but I will tell you we woke up early to visit the Taj at sunrise. The early morning light cast the building in a golden light and then highlighted the white marble. Here are the pics for you to enjoy!