India: Part IV - Jaipur and fish curry

After Ranthambore and its tiger, off we went to Jaipur. I'd dreamt about this city and its forts, crafts, and food. While living in Trinidad & Tobago, one of my favorite places was House of Jaipur, an oasis where I used to escape to sip a cup of Masala Chai and admire the gorgeous crafts for sale. 

We had the misfortune of having a driver who got lost getting to Jaipur. A 2.5-hour ride turned into a 5 hour nauseating headache. Part of this vehicular catastrophe included an unsolicited and unexpected trip through some of Jaipur's (I'll be honest here) ugliest and dirtiest back streets. Pigs wallowed in putrid water that ran along thin canals at the foot of homes and businesses, trash mounds were everywhere and trash cans were nowhere. People urinated, spat, and blew their noses every which way; and ate in the same ways. I have to admit that my anthropological open-mindedness went out the window and melted away in one of the disgusting canals. I was feeling green and I needed to see something beautiful and forget that I was holding a small bottle of hand sanitizer up to my nose to cover the revolting stench that inundated the car. 

Samode Haveli, Jaipur

We finally arrived at the right place to escape these scenes of some people's reality. We arrived in Samode Haveli, a beautiful hotel that used to be a Maharaja's home, no, palace. I thanked my lucky stars that we could afford to stay in a lovely hotel with a clean bed and a hot shower. After I recovered from the nausea and car sickness, I put my anthropologist hat on again and thought about how interesting that detour through Jaipur had been. I thought about how I saw small children walk arm in arm on their way home from school in an endearing way I haven't seen in many other places. I noticed that so much of Indian daily life takes place outdoors, for the world to see. Haircuts and shaves, a game of cards, fixing a radio, feeding a child, drinking tea, having a conversation, washing a shirt, eating a dosa, and watching the view. These lives take place in a fish bowl and are an absolute contrast to the private lives we live in America behind closed doors. Even though it was an attack on the senses, I'm glad I had the opportunity to see that corner of Indian reality. A fish curry dinner (*see recipe below) and drinks by the pool at the hotel did the trick, and we slept soundly in our privileged four-poster bed.

Samode Haveli, Jaipur

The next day, we visited stunning Amber Fort, Jaipur's Great Wall of China, and Elephant Village, where we painted and rode an elephant in a protected environment where families receive subsidies to care for elephants in exchange for a home. Images of the previous day's nastiness forgotten, we were once again on the way to enjoying the loveliness of India, but still silenced by her contrasts.

Amber Fort, Jaipur

***

Fish Curry

I was invited to a friend's home to hang out with her personal cook for an afternoon. This is his delicious fish curry recipe, an epitome of Delhi home-cooking.

Grating coconut

Ingredients:
2.2 lbs (1kg) fish with firm, white flesh, such as Rohu
3 or 4 curry leaves
vegetable oil
1 tbsp garlic paste
4 tbsp mustard seeds (yellow and black) - ground in water to make mustard seed paste
salt
1/2 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp ground red chili
2 pureed tomatoes
1 cup water
1 spicy green chili
4 small cubes potatoes
1 grated coconut (blended with 1/2 cup water) to create coconut milk


Marinate fish strips in turmeric and sauté in 1 tbsp vegetable oil and set aside. In a separate sauté pan, fry curry leaves in 1 tbsp vegetable oil and add garlic paste. Add 1/2 tbsp of mustard seed paste and 1/2 tsp salt, 1/2 tsp turmeric, 1/2 tsp red chili, and pureed tomatoes. Sauté until all elements are cooked through, then add 1/2 cup of water. Let cook throughly.

Green chili

Frying curry leaves

Fish curry

Add 1/2 cup water to the curry sauce to liquify, then add fish that was marinating separately. Halve the spicy green chili and remove its seeds. Chop and add the green chili to the mixture, as well as potatoes and the milk of the grated coconut.

India: Part III A Tiger in its Home

We got side-tracked driving through Agra to get to Fatehpur Sikri*, and what we saw was reality. Our previous days' adventures included visits to gorgeous monuments, delicious restaurants, sublime boutiques, such as Good Earth (Tara's family's home decoration store) and a birthday party that Delhi's creme de la creme attended in all their splendor. That was one side of the Indian reality coin. The other was the view from our car, as it maneuvered through the streets of Agra. The stereotypical chaos of cows on the road, bicycles, rickshaws, people, cars, all of them moving. Together. Everywhere. Across. Around. Through. Over. Under. At. The. Same. Time. Sensory overload. 

I was glad to arrive in a quiet, clean hotel, and grateful for my life of comfort and the opportunity to be reminded of the way many *many* people live.

Taj Majal at sunrise.

The Taj Majal at sunrise. Put it on your list of things to do before you die, if you haven't done so already. It looks like sugar, and changes color every five minutes as its exposure to the sunlight changes. I thought I would be desensitized to its splendor because I've seen so many images of it, but that was not the case. 

From Agra we took a train to Ranthambore, an area of Rajasthan where tigers roam and reign supreme. Tara recommended we include a Sher Bagh experience. Created with the intention of welcoming those interested in going on safari to visit Bengal tigers in their natural habitat, and enjoying some of the world's best guest services experiences, Sher Bagh is a place where you go to be pampered, eat very well, and have spiritual experiences associated with seeing a tiger in its home, from the comfort of doorless, roofless, open-topped safari jeeps. When our train arrived in Ranthambore, we were greeted by Sher Bagh drivers and butlers who offered us lemon water on a silver platter at the railway station. We embarked our jeep, and on our tiger adventure. We arrived at Sher Bagh in the midst of a forest and adobe grounds. A luxury tent "glamping" (glamour camping) experience, where good taste, comfort, and respect for the surrounding environment come together to humble you into submitting to the magic this place has to offer. 

"Glamping" (glamour camping) in Sher Bagh.

On our first outing, we visited a Hindu temple dedicated to Ganesha located in the heart of the tiger reserve. The temple is more than one thousand years old, and sits carved into the rocks that protrude from the hills of Ranthambore. Ancient engineers masterminded a design that curves along with the winding hills, creating a powerful spiritual experience for pilgrims and visitors. 

We returned to camp for dinner by torch light. The buffet meal

Dinner by torch light in Sher Bagh.

of typical home cooking from Rajasthan was presented on an adobe buffet mound made of a mixture of manure and red soil that is used to make houses in this part of India. The design was brilliant and included a cavity in the mound where candles were placed to keep the food warm. Butlers helped us serve scrumptious daal, okra, chicken paneer, yogurt, and chutney on gorgeous copper plates. All this was accompanied with the best naan I've ever had. After dinner, we enjoyed a drink with our hosts, the family who owns Sher Bagh and whose passion for Ranthambore and its tigers is contagious. Their anecdotes about tiger sitings peaked our interest and made us almost burst at the seams with anticipation. We returned to our tent for a hot shower and a comfortable night's rest under a mosquito net. I felt like I was living the Out of Africa dream of living in luxury safari mode. A sunrise safari awaited us the next morning, and I dreamt of tigers.

Tracking tigers.

Tiger sitings at this time of year were complicated because the recent monsoons had left a lush canopy of brush, creating hiding places for tigers. For hours, we roamed the jungle, which looked like an enchanted forest where fairies live. Recent rainfall allowed for fresh and crisp mint green leaves to shimmer against the charcoal black background of tree trunks that twisted and curved amongst the magic of the jungle. We spotted different varieties of deer, peacocks, monkeys, wild boar, dragonflies the color of fire, and birds galore. We even caught sight of a terrifying but gorgeous spider with black, orange, and yellow spots the size of my hand. It rested on its gigantic and perfectly symetrical web waiting for prey. 

The spider waited for its prey just as we sat by an enormous and ancient Banyan tree that looked like something from the Lord or the Rings, about to pull its massive roots and vines as if they were arms and legs to start walking deeper into the jungle. We waited not for prey, but for a tiger siting. We were on the look out for alarm calls (sounds animals make to warn us that there are tigers around). At one magical and nerve racking moment, a deer stood perfectly still and began patting his front leg as an indication that he sensed the presence of a tiger. I've never been so horrified and thrilled with anticipation. We waited for an hour, and deep down in our animal instinct (that woke up in Ranthambore after being dormant in our life in a concrete jungle) we knew there was a tiger near us. However, the tiger wasn't feeling sociable enough to say hello.

Sunset in Ranthambore.

At sundown, we witnessed one of the best shows I've seen the sun put on. A palette of pastel colors draping the sky above an ancient Hindu temple that has sat in the middle of a lake as a lounging area for many generations of tigers. My heart skipped beats and I sighed more than once.

While exiting the reservation that evening, we stumbled upon a traffic jam of safari jeeps on the main road. The guide in the jeep ahead of us stopped and pointed to our left, where ten feet from us, there he was...a tiger. My hands started to shake with excitement, fear, happiness, and a feeling of relief because this tiger had allowed us a glimpse, and appeased anxious anticipation. The monkeys in the trees yelled, jumped, and ran away from the tiger, while us humans clicked away with our cameras. I left Ranthambore a happier person than when I entered it. Tara and the family that runs Sher Bagh is addicted to the feeling of complete awe of seeing India's Bengal tigers, and perhaps I am now an addict as well. The power and imposing presence of a tiger living in his home are enough to humble even the most indifferent of spectators. I now understand what it means to be blessed by a tiger's decision to grace you with his presence. 

This is what happens when you're shaking so much, you can't take a proper photo of the tiger that is ten feet from you, and you're in an open jeep.

Seeing a tiger in his home solidified my belief that animals, and the environment we share with them, are sacred and to be revered and respected. 

*Fatehpur Sikri is a stunning Mughal city built with the purpose of bringing together artists, philosophers, theologists, and people from different religions far and wide. Stone is carved so intricately, it has the appearance of wood.

India: Part II - Bukhara Daal

We dedicated the first few days of our trip to New Delhi to visiting historic sites and eating. We ooed and awed at miniature paintings of Hindu mythology, ancient sculptures of gods and goddesses at the National Museum, and tombs and monuments that spring up in the middle of the urban hustle and bustle. We were humbled by these pieces of Indian history.

We joined friends at Bukhara, a famous restaurant where customers are given bibs and a meal of a lifetime that includes daal (stewed lentils) that is quite simply the best in the world. Once I tasted the smoky deliciousness I knew there had to be something special about how they make these little grains. I was right. I heard rumors that they use the same pot to make the daal, and never wash it out, so the flavors remain infused in each new batch of daal and spices...and BUTTER! Yum. Word has it that they place a few lentils on a small piece of charcoal under the pot in order to give the whole mise en place a hint of smoked daal. 

Our Bukhara feast. The lamb melted off the bone like butter.

The world's best daal (see what I mean about the butter)? Yum.

Finger lickin' good. KFC, eat your heart out.

It is hard for me to comprehend the magnitude of Indian history. So complex and....old! As I savored the mouth-watering meal at Bukhara I thought about how centuries of culinary traditions have come together to create a marriage of spices that bring intense happiness to my heart. It was an experience similar to standing in front of a statue of Buddha that dates back to the second century and feeling utterly happy and spiritually overwhelmed about what I was seeing. 

India: Part 1

I dedicate the following India entries to celebrating 20,000+ hits to my blog. Thank you for reading what I love to write.

Tara, architect, designer, art historian, chef, world traveler, and dear friend invited us to visit her in India. She and I met at culinary school in Paris and instantly became kindred spirits. Neither of us consider ourselves religious, but we find our spirituality in the passion and appreciation we have for travel, food, tigers (more on tigers later), and all things beautiful. 

My husband and I decided India would be the perfect destination to celebrate his 40th birthday. It's an important moment to remember in someone's life, and India's history, food, colors, adventures, and magic seemed to offer the memorable experience we were looking for. We were right.

Ranthambore women

We arrived in Delhi after a 30+-hour trip from Panama City, and were instantly treated like a king and queen even though we looked like creepy zombies with bloodshot eyes from the 15-hour plane ride we'd just taken. A chofer took us to Tara's home, which is where good taste, globe-trotter design, and comfort come together. 

Living room

Library

Delhi beyond the balcony

Before I tell you about our trip, however, I'd like to talk about what happened before we left Panama. I thought long and hard about how I would prepare for a trip to India. As a student of anthropology at the London School of Economics I studied under many professors who were experts on India. In fact, social anthropology has its roots in London, where the British sent ethnographers to India way back when in order to study Indian society *and therefore be able to take better control of it. Because I've read many ethnographies about the caste system and religions of India, I had an image in my mind about what the country was all about. I envisioned utter luxury as well as dire misery. I prepared myself psychologically for these extremes, and for sensory overload. Even though I knew I'd see tough things, I was convinced that I would also see wonderful things. 

Weaver at Ramthambore women's cooperative

Others didn't share that view. In fact, plenty of Panamanians, and people from other Latin American countries, looked at me like I was insane for wanting to go to India. Many were confused, or perhaps simply ignorant about where and what India was, and told me to be careful, as if I were about to enter a war zone. You'd be surprised by how many people in the Americas lump all of the Middle East, South Asia, and a lot of Asia, into one and the same. All of it dark and dangerous. That's what they think.

A few days before leaving, my husband was having a conversation with two women about our upcoming trip. One of them said, "have a great time and bring me something nice!" and the other responded, "what would he bring back? There's nothing there to bring."

Instead of allowing this point of view to pollute my dreams of India, I felt sorry for this woman and instead envisioned myself in textile markets buying block print and cut-work treasures to bring back to Panama. 

The entries to come will tell you about the trip. I'll finish this first entry by explaining that our experience was magical. Mostly because India's colorful chaos is intoxicating in positive and negative ways, but our trip was particularly special because of our hostess. A lovely, strong, and brilliant Indian woman who has the sophistication that comes with seeing the magic that the world has to offer.

Mark Twain once said that "travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many people need it solely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one corner of the earth all one's lifetime."

I am thankful that I do not suffer from vegetating in my corner of the earth, and I know when I need my travel fix. I needed an escape from Panama's concrete jungle, our routine, and prejudice (mine and everyone else's). This adventure confirmed my belief that escape is what feeds my intellect and my spirituality.

Anticipating India

My name.

Pretty soon, this blog will have photos and recipes of succulent lamb curries, burnt red raw silk saris, intricate marble etchings on the walls of ancient palaces, yellow ochre spices, inquisitive eyes the color of which I have yet to discover, Himalayan sunsets and sunrises I have yet to imagine, tiger homes, people homes, homeless people, people watchers, people I have yet to meet...in India. Stay tuned for my next foodie anthropologist adventure.

When cooks can't cook

My husband and I met in Honolulu at an international education development conference. The day we met, I was certain he was the man I wanted to marry and live a global nomad's life with. We got married exactly one year after the day we met. Very romantic, I know. The not so romantic aspect of our life in international development, is that we sometimes have to brave the not so romantic aspects of living in developing countries. I've had to rough it in Equatorial Guinea, Africa, where I was hospitalized in a "clinic" in the middle of nowhere from food poisoning caused by eating bush rat. I've also been known to be looking maniacally for a restroom in Mexico, Colombia, China, and Washington DC (damn that hot dog from a stand in the National Mall)!

I wouldn't exactly say we're roughing it in Panama, since we live in a beautiful high rise in an impressive new concrete jungle of shiny, tall, modern, futuristic-looking buildings. When you're about to land at the Panama City airport, the view of the skyline resembles Miami or even Dubai instead of what you would imagine a Central American skyline to look like. 

Despite the marble, views of the Pacific, pools, saunas, and all the luxury, however, construction is not of the highest quality. It's common for floors to rise all of a sudden, creating giant pyramids of marble tiles in the middle of your living room. Water pipes are known to burst constantly, causing entire buildings to lose water for days at a time. Lack of maintenance is the norm, despite high administration and rental fees.

Three weeks ago, they shut off the gas in our building. No hot water. No stove. No oven. No dryer. The reason = multiple gas leaks in almost every floor of our 40-story building. The gas guy told me there was a gas pipe on the 40th floor that was in such bad shape, it "would have been a bomb." 

We've had to be resourceful. I'm using wedding gifts that usually remain untouched in the back of my cabinets. Cuisinart griddlers and toaster ovens have baked, broiled, panninied, and toasted like they've never done before. I heat water with an electric kettle for my young sons to shower (under a watering can we hold above their heads), but my husband and I bathe in freezing H2O. Yes, it's hot here in Panama, but damn, that water is still cold. 

I'm using this opportunity to teach my four-year-old the concept of luxuries like running water, hot water, and electricity. I'm also using this opportunity to think of recipes I can cook without the use of a stove or a normal oven. Here is the recipe for a roasted vegetable lasagna I made in my toaster oven. 

When cooks can't cook....they still find a way. 

Roasted Vegetable Lasagna (*Adapted from Rombauer's Joy of Cooking)

Ingredients:
zucchini (3 lbs)
eggplants (3 lbs)
tomatoes (3 lbs)
coarse Kosher salt (I like Mortons)
fresh ground pepper
olive oil (1 tsp)
Ricotta cheese (1 lb)
Parmesan cheese (1/2 cup)
Eggs (2)
nutmeg (1/2 tsp)
breadcrumbs (1/4 cup)

In roasting pans, roast three pounds each of sliced zucchini, eggplant, and tomatoes in plenty of coarse Kosher salt, fresh ground pepper, and olive oil. Roast at 350 degrees until nice and caramelized. 

Cook dried lasagna (1 lb) in salted boiling water and a splash of vegetable oil for a couple of minutes less than normal cooking time because pasta will continue cooking in the oven.

In a bowl, mix ricotta cheese (1 lb), parmesan cheese (1/2 cup), two eggs, salt, nutmeg, and pepper and set in fridge until ready to use.

To assemble lasagna, place one layer of pasta on a glass pyrex lined with olive oil, then add a layer of the ricotta cheese mixture. Top with crushed pepper and roasted vegetables, and repeat for as many layers as you can. Finish off with a layer of lasagna topped with parmesan cheese and breadcrumbs.

Cover lasagna with aluminum foil and bake at 350 degrees (ideally  in a normal oven, but when you have to, a toaster oven works as well) for half an hour. Remove foil and bake for another 15 minutes. Remove from oven and let rest for 15 minutes before serving.

Dream divas

My good friend and founder of Panama Kontacts, a facebook group in which Latin American expatriate women share information about life in Panama, invited me to speak at this month's "tertulia", or "discussion/chat". She told me my story inspired her. Wow. That was my first reaction. My next reaction was to get very excited about what I was going to say to a group of women who wanted to know how I fulfilled my dream of going to culinary school in Paris...and to facilitate a discussion about how to open your mind to the possibility of realizing your dreams.

What to say, what to say...to a group of women who live in a country different from their own. Why are they in Panama? Housewives? Business executives transferred by their companies? Did they come seeking political asylum? Seeking a better life? Are they mothers? Are they wives? Are they single? What to say to them...what to say.

They turned out to be strong, interesting women with a lot to share. The setting was DGAG, a rockin' contemporary art gallery whose owner is a dynamic Venezuelan woman filled with creative energy. I decided to ask my audience of dream divas about their own dreams, and to keep those visions in their minds while I gave my presentation. I told them my story and talked about being positive, having a happy life, about building your life instead of just living it (see Ashton Kutcher's speech in reference to Steve Jobs' concepts of building your life). I said that fun marriages and relationships are all about adventures, and that if you support your significant other's dreams and they support yours, you will have many adventures. I told them that by realizing your dreams you would most likely enrich the lives of the people around you and some dreams would result in better communities, cities, countries, and a better world. 

I reminded them that if their children had visions of them as strong, determined women, they would inculcate the idea that you should never settle for mediocrity and that once you experience the feeling of achieving one extraordinary thing, you'll become addicted to being that way, and that you'll forever be motivated to do bigger and better things. We agreed, however, to always be thankful and feel humility by the thought that what you achieved, you did so with the help of others.

I gave them three tips: 1. every morning, when you wake up, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and envision your dream, and do it again before you go to sleep; 2. say "yes" more; and 3. once you achieve one dream, think of the next.

We identified the following characteristics of happy people (inspired by a Huffington Post article): they dream, visualize, and succeed, they tell their stories in order to share tools that are necessary to build, evolve, and persevere, and they turn gratitude into energy that helps them face challenges.

I received positive feedback from the audience about the conversation. But the most satisfying part of this experience was being in a female powerhouse, a room filled with women who created a new life for themselves in a new country, some for professional reasons, some for personal, some who had to leave their country of origin because the political situation became so bad that their dreams were being stifled. 

The human right to envision hopes and aspirations is a powerful and beautiful force to be reckoned with.