A Quick Survival Guide to India [en]

A friend of mine mentioned she might be going to India for business next year, which prompted me to dish out a few “Indian culture survival tips” to her — how about a quick blog post about that? Also, being here with my dad (who is in India for the first time) has made me notice things I’ve grown used to but which aren’t “obvious” for the first-time-visiting foreigner. So, in no particular order, while I sort through the 500 somewhat blurry photos I took from the train to Bangalore…

Pune 268 Street Paparazzi.jpg

Warning to my Indian friends: this is full of stereotypes and clichés. I know not all of India and not all Indians are like this. This is just to prepare people to things that do function very differently from in the West.

  • expect everything to take longer than you expect
  • in general, expect things to go slowly
  • expect plans to be derailed and changed and modified and cancelled
  • be patient
  • we’re in a part of the world where saying “no” amounts to some degree of loss of face — so expect people to say yes or give you an answer when in fact they mean “no” or “I don’t know” (classic: ask for directions, people will point you in some random direction rather than saying they don’t know)
  • don’t plan on accomplishing more than one thing a day (you’ll exhaust yourself and make yourself sick)
  • people don’t generally make eye contact unless they want something — so don’t look people in the eye when saying “no, I don’t need your prepaid taxi” or “no, I don’t want to give you money” (just shake your head, say no, ignore them — and try and pick up the “negative” hand wobble if you can)
  • people don’t usually shake hands or hug or kiss or anything like that, so take the cue from the person you’re meeting rather than sticking your hand out
  • expensive services or goods does not necessarily mean they will be quality (ripping people off is generally not viewed as “immoral” as it is in our Judeo-Christian culture)
  • eat when you have a chance, pee when you have a chance — you don’t know for sure when the next occasion will be
  • the weird head-wobble means anything from “of course, you moron” to “yeah… may-be” — context will help you (or not)
  • direct confrontation does not work very well
  • expect people to make plans for you without asking you if it’s OK for you
  • expect people to assume you can’t eat “normal-spicy” food (but if you can’t take hot food at all, it will still be way too hot for you)
  • bottled water is called “bisleri” (whether it’s proper Bislery, Kinley, AquaFina or anything else — down to the shadier brands)
  • don’t expect western-style toilets or toilet paper (carry some around with you if you can’t do things “Indian-style”)
  • people will be wanting you to “sit”, have a cup of water (politely decline if it’s tap water, but say yes to chai)
  • the horrible loud midi tunes you hear outside are cars reversing
  • it’s noisy
  • beds aren’t really private places
  • wash your hands, don’t drink unbottled/unfiltered water, don’t eat uncooked stuff (the general rules — bend at your convenience and at your own risk)
  • expect to freeze in A/C places (trains, busses, hotel rooms, offices)
  • verbal communication is often kept to a minimum — lots of hand gestures (people will gesture you to follow them instead of saying “would you please follow me”)
  • most Indian food is eaten with your fingers (rip a piece of chapati/naan, pick up food with it, put in mouth) or a spoon — your fingers are more sensitive to heat than your mouth, so if you can pick it up without dropping it, you won’t burn your tongue
  • men: jeans/trousers and shirt are fine — t-shirt is trendy for Indians, but makes you look touristy if you’re white; women: jeans are starting to be OK with long-covering kurta, but I recommend going a little more classy and getting a salwaar kameez in the fashion on the day stitched — it’s pretty and it makes you stand out a bit from the 100% touristy crowd (leggings and kurta are in fashion now too, but I feel I get treated differently when wearing a pretty flowing salwaar kameez — maybe it’s just me)
  • expect things to not go as expected (did I already say this?)
  • life is complicated enough without making it more complicated: if you’re trying to buy something and have a chance to buy it, don’t think “let me first shop around” or “I’ll come back later” — just get it then and there (if you really need it, that is)
  • expect commuting to be not as simple as you imagine: rickshaw drivers might refuse to take you where you want, specially in the evening (we had three local guys flag down about 20 of them the first evening my dad was here before we found one who would take us home by the meter)
  • you’re not supposed to tip left, right and centre — ask a trusted local or a well-adjusted foreigner when to give extra (again: not often)
  • at stations and airports, take prepaid taxis or rickshaws if your transport has not been arranged (you’ll find the prepaid stand by yourself, don’t follow the guys who ask you if you want one)
  • in general, don’t go with people who come up to you offering services (e.g. flagging down a rickshaw on the road is much better than taking the one who just drove 100m to come to you; and no, you don’t want to go to the shop this guy who just walked up to you is suggesting you buy from; etc.)
  • the country in general is not designed to help people figure out “how it works” — you just have to know (hence how precious local help is; don’t expect instructions to be written down anywhere to tell you how to take the bus)
  • expect to be stared at, by children and grown-ups alike
  • be ready for paperwork; tedious and seemingly useless paperwork
  • the person you interact with and the person doing things is not usually the same person — big division of labour: you talk to a guy in the store and ask to see something, he tells somebody else to take the thing out, and that person might in turn tell somebody else (perfectly normal, just feels weird at first); also, in a restaurant, not the same person who serves meals, seats you, picks up the dishes, cashes in the bill, etc.
  • expect many occurrences of “not my job” brokenness
  • what locals expect you to want and like is probably not what you will want and like…

Did I leave anything important out?

India is a lovely place once you’ve understood how it rolls. Main piece of advice? Be patient, and if you can hang around with local friends or well-adjusted foreigners, observe them, and try to learn by example.

Nisha's Fried Kingfish and Red Fish Curry [en]

[fr] Poisson grillé et curry rouge de poisson. (J'avais d'abord écrit: "curry de poisson rouge", cherchez l'erreur.)

Here’s a dish Nisha made almost a week ago, but I’ve fallen behind in publishing recipes I took notes about. Here we go!

Start with the fried king mackerel (kingfish) as it has to marinate:

  • wash the fish
  • put the fish on a plate, sprinkle with lemon, salt, turmeric, chilli powder and a good spoonful of garlic and ginger paste: mix it all up and leave to sit (half an hour? an hour? more? something like that)

Lemon, salt, turmeric, chilli powder, garlic and ginger paste on the fish

  • mix rawa and rice flour, and dip the marinated fish in that mixture before frying at a low temperature on a tawa (it really takes quite a while, a good 5 minutes per side, so depending how much fish you have and what size your pan is…)

Pune - Kingfish Frying

Now for the red fish curry (you do this in parallel, actually, you want both dishes to be ready as they’re eaten together)

  • grate the coconut (not sure how to do it without the special coconut graters they have around here — by the way, Nisha says that for chicken and lamb curry, which is a different recipe, you can use dried coconut, but fresh coconut is mandatory for fish curry)
  • soak lots of red chillies (about ten) with two spoonfuls of coriander seeds in some water
  • add garlic and make a paste in the mixer
  • add half the coconut (or more, depending on how much paste you’re making) and blend — add some water to help liquidize, you need make a very smooth paste
  • heat oil, put crushed garlic and curry leaves in, then add paste, salt, 1 small spoon of tamarind paste (or dried tamarind) and cook about 5 minutes (the paste needs to boil)
  • add in a few pieces of fish (like the less nice bits of king fish after keeping the nicer parts for frying)
  • boil another 5 minutes or so.

Pune - Red Fish Curry

To eat, pick up a piece of fried fish with some chapati, and dip it in the fish curry. Yum again!

How to Order Pizza in India: a Rant [en]

[fr] 45 minutes au téléphone (et 5 appels différents) pour commander une pizza. Mais j'ai réussi!

This is a little rant while I wait for said pizza to arrive. Yes, I actually did manage to order pizza. Here’s how I did it.

Called Domino’s Pizza main customer service line, told them where I was (IUCAA, near Khadki-Aundh Road), and was transferred to Aundh branch, where I was promptly told delivery was not possible and that DP Road branch would deliver to me.

I took down DP Road’s branch number, called them, and was told that Aundh branch was the correct branch to call for my address (this required me to be transferred to somebody who spoke English I could more or less understand — I hate doing stuff by phone in India). I told them the Aundh branch had sent me to them, but was told to call them and that they would deliver to me.

I took down the Aundh branch number and called them again. The service rep’s English was minimal (he quickly told me delivery was not possible, but I insisted, and told them I had already had pizzas delivered here — true, ate a lot when I lived here with Aleika) so I ended putting Nisha’s niece on the line to improve communication (Hindi/Marathi). After a long conversation, the conclusion was that they would not deliver because the pizza would be cold.

Enter Twitter: should I expect to be able to get delivery? Well, yes, here’s the closest branch: SB Road.

So, I gather my courage and call the general customer service number (which I’m starting to know by heart) again. (Side-note to readers: the pizza has arrived and I have eaten it since starting to write this post — I’m feeling less ranty and more proud of myself. A full stomach will do that.)

I am told that SB Road branch does not exist or is not in the system. Will DP Road do? No, DP road will not do. I explain what I’ve already been through, and that I would like to know which branch to call to get a delivery, and that I suspect it might be SB Road. No, no, it doesn’t exist. Again, as I’m having a lot of trouble understanding the CSR on the line (not just their fault — my Indian English is not 100% and I’m particularly bad with accents on the phone), I put Nisha’s niece on the line.

It doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere really interesting, and looking at the website again I see the direct number for the branch is provided. We hang up, I take a deep breath, and I call again. This time, I am not told that delivery is impossible. My order goes smoothly — understand: it takes me about 10 minutes to give my address. The street name is Akashganga. OK, Akashganga. What is the street name? Er… Akashganga. In IUCAA. So, IUCAA ### (flat number). No, Akashganga. In IUCAA. IUCAA is the housing complex. So, Akashganga, IUCAA, near what landmark? Er… IUCAA, the astrophysics department. Near the University Campus back gate. So, Akashganga, IUCAA, near physics department. No, near the back gate. (10 good minutes of that. I’m patient. I explain everything in detail. I double-check they have my number right. I explain there are security guards who can direct the delivery boy. I say again it’s right at the back of the University campus.)

I give my order. This is about 45 minutes after my first call to Domino’s Pizza. What’s wrong with this picture?

But everything seems fine. I put down the phone, take a deep breath, and go and take a quick bath to wash of a full day’s roaming in the polluted city (a lot of it on foot, including beggar kids grabbing me and wiping their hands all over my clothes — worse begging in the space of 5 minutes near the top of Jangli Maharaj Road than I had in months when I was living here).

Totally surprisingly (I have to say), the pizza arrives reasonably quickly, still warm, and without the delivery guy having to call us. If only ordering had been so simple.

(OK, next time I’m ordering online. I was put off by the fact they required an Indian number, but thinking of it now, I could have provided the landline to where I’m staying — which I did on the phone anyway. Oh well. One learns.)

Basically, once I was on the line with the right branch, I was pretty much OK. But the service provided before that was disastrous: pillar to post, and nobody able to send me to the right place or provide me more useful information than “not possible”. Twitter provided better customer service than Domino’s, in this case. Thanks again, Sahil.

Time-Melt in Pune [en]

[fr] Encore des nouvelles de Pune, où tout se passe bien. Mes photos sont en ligne (en vrac).

I’m losing track of time. When did I get here? A week ago already? It has flown by so fast, but it feels like I’ve been living here (almost) all my life.

We just got home from a wonderful meal at Shabree, a restaurant that does Maharashtrian thalis. We ate till we (almost) burst!

Finding a rickshaw home tonight was easier than last night, when I watched a bunch of guys my jeweler had asked stop at least a dozen rickshaws before finding one who would take us back from MG Road.

Pune 191 Laxmi Road Shopping.jpg

I think I definitely like Laxmi Road way better than MG Road. It’s more alive, more “real”, less “trying to be upmarket”. There are nice shops in and around MG Road though, but if it’s just for pleasure, I’ll take Laxmi Road. Our trip today was successful: goda masala (I still need to write up some Nisha recipes for you, I can’t keep up!) and a few other spices, Nisha’s brand of tea, an oil-lamp for my dad, lots of cheap fresh coriander, nail polish, and a few other things I forget. Oh yes, we found a shop which probably has the cable or card reader we’re looking for.

In other news, I dump-uploaded my photos, so they’re now visible online in my Pune 2010-2011 set. Clearly some of them need a little work (whether I’ll ever get around to doing it is another story) and I need to break them up into smaller, more manageable sets. Feel free to add tags to the photos and to point out which ones you think are particularly good — it really helps me after when I try to turn them into something presentable.

I’m exhausted again (because the day was long and nice!) so I’m going to leave things here — aren’t holidays supposed to be restful? 😉

Can't Keep Up With My Pune Photos! [en]

[fr] Des nouvelles de Pune. Les photos viendront, mais j'ai de la peine à suivre!

Help, I can’t keep up! I’ve settled down nicely now and been taking lots of photographs — in the University campus while walking the dogs with the Shindes, and in Laxmi Road yesterday with Mithun and family (got to meet his lovely wife, and his mother is an absolutely fabulous shopping partner).

Pune 218 Laxmi Road Shopping.jpg

So, I’ve been busier, with less time to sort photos and write, and I’m falling behind. And now my dad has arrived, so it’s going to get even worse!

After a couple of days here, I started to feel an urge (a) to come here more often and (b) to come and live here again. Of course, it goes back and forth, and I’m regularly very happy to be living in tame Switzerland — like when a rickshawallah agrees to take me to IUCAA, leaves the meter running at the petrol station, refuses to stop it when I tell him, and then dumps me at the university gate because he won’t go into the campus. Or when I’m trying on something that is clearly too small for me and I’m told repeatedly that it fits me perfectly (no it doesn’t: if I reach forward I’ll rip the fabric, and I’ll have to get into really uncomfortable positions to get out of it). Or when I ask for size 9 sandals, am told the size 6 I have in hand is a hand 9 (upside down, see?), and that my own size 9 sandals are bigger in size than their “size 9” because they’re Kohlapuri chappals. Gah.

But aside from these little frustrations, I’m thoroughly enjoying my time here. My Hindi (er Hinglish… my Hindi teachers would be appalled) is slowly coming back, I’m remembering the roads and generally how to deal with the world around me.

I tested the Pune Twitter connexion, with great success! Thanks in particular to MrShri, SahilK, and ZoebAsif for helping me out with my laptop repair (not my laptop, don’t worry!) — and all the others I’ve been in contact with upto now.

Right, I’ll try and make a little progress with these photos, before heading out to MG Road again in a bit!

A Few Days in Pune, and Dress Material [en]

[fr] Quelques premiers jours à Pune!

I’ve been in Pune for a few days now. So, what have I been up to? Well, mainly, hanging out at the Shindes.

I remember that during my last visit here I spent days on end just reading and chilling, and feeling a little guilty that I wasn’t “making the most” of my stay. But I realized that India for me is also simply about slowing down my pace of life, which includes reading (and writing) and chilling — and watching Nisha cook so I can steal her recipes.

I’ve been out a few times now: twice to MG Road, once to Ambedkar Chowk, to Pimpri and to Parvati to pay a visit to Pradnya, who was Bagha and Cali‘s vet when we lived here, and is now the Shindes.

Pune has changed a lot, but it also hasn’t. There are flyovers and big glass buildings and malls and huge petrol stations that weren’t there last time I came, but other things seem almost just like I left them: my choli-maker is still in service, as is my jeweler, the Pune Coffee House in Camp still exists as do many of the shops I went to, and most of the people I knew are still around.

The trip to Pimpri was epic: three different rickshaws to get there, none of them by the meter, of course. Good thing there were “six-seaters” somewhere along the way (I use brackets because they’re not really six-seaters, they’re just normal rickshaws in which people pile up).

Dress material in Pimpri, my favourites from shop #1 Dress material in Pimpri, my favourites from shop #2 Dress material in Pimpri, my favourites from shop #3

My ambition was to find a pink and silver salwaar kameez in today’s fashion. My dresses are clearly a little out of fashion, and I spotted a few cute pink ones on the street with silver embroidery. Ready-made would have been ideal given I’m not going to be in Pune for long, but after trying on one or two I quickly gave up: even the biggest of their biggest XL was too small for me. I moved on to dress material, but without finding something what I was looking for. Some nice things, of course, but not what I had in my head. If only I could draw clothes! I did see something approaching what I wanted, but… in green. Oh well.

What I'm actually looking for, but in pink

Maybe I’ll just end up buying fabric and having a shot at drawing (gasp!) something.

Sorting Through Grief [en]

So, in the process of coming to terms with Bagha’s death — or at least, moving forward in that direction — I’ve tried to identify what made him special and unique for me. You see, when losing a pet you’re as attached to as I was to Bagha, a lot of things get mixed up.

Cute Sleeping Bagha at Eclau

I think it helps to differentiate, for example, between the pain of being “petless” and the pain of losing this specific pet. Here are some of the levels I can make out:

  • what it means for me to now be living completely alone (ie, “petless” => by extension, what having a pet — any pet — adds to my life)
  • what made Bagha special, as compared to other cats (his personal caracteristics, pretty objectively)
  • what made Bagha special for me, in terms of the relationship we had and what he meant to me.

I made a pretty long list in the days following his death. One of the reasons I’m doing this is that I have trouble sorting out the levels (even simply hoping they make sense). The idea is to identify what I am really grieving here (yeah, my cat of course, but let’s skip the obvious) and also — this is the difficult part for me — to pinpoint what remains for me of this feline relationship.

What made it worthwhile? What justifies or compensates the suffering when it ends? What is really hurting because of this particular loss, and what is just old stuff coming back to the surface? Because without that, the obvious conclusion to this much grief (and those who have been through separations of any type in their life can probably relate) is vowing never to put oneself in a situation that leaves the door open to suffering like this again. To put it clearly: to be able to love (or bond) you need to be able to grieve (to come to terms with loss).

I’ll dive into this exercise in another post. First of all, because it will be long — and second, because it’s not easy, and I think I have to take things little by little. Writing this up is the first step.

Pune de tous les jours en photos [fr]

Cet article a été initialement publié sur le blog de voyage ebookers.ch (voir l’original).

Quand je suis arrivée en Inde pour la première fois, j’ai été frappée par le fait que l’Inde quotidienne en ville n’avait pas grand chose à voir avec les photos que l’on peut voir dans le National Geographic. Alors bien sûr, les photographes du National Geographic sont excellents, et leurs photos aussi, et une belle photo, c’est aussi un peu par définition une photo qui fait rêver.

20040202_street_life_113

Ce choc initial m’a donné envie de photographier les choses qu’on ne photographie pas. Les choses banales, les rues banales, les choses auxquelles on s’habitue parce qu’elles font partie de la normalité. Les prises électriques et interrupteurs, par exemple.

La plupart des photos de mes trois premiers voyages en Inde ne sont pas en ligne. Mille dias et quelques films pour mon année passée ici, et une bonne dizaine de films pour les visites subséquentes. J’ai trié un bon bout, j’ai fait un album ou deux, mais scanner, c’est cher ou ça prend du temps. Ça viendra. Lors de mon dernier voyage, j’avais un appareil vidéo numérique avec moi. Beaucoup de séquences vidéo dont je n’ai encore rien fait, et une bonne pile de photos quand même (de qualité douteuse selon les critères d’aujourd’hui).

En 2011 (bonne année!), munie d’un appareil numérique et d’un iPhone 4 avec instagram, j’avoue que la tâche m’est grandement facilitée. Je sors rapidement et discrètement mon téléphone, je prends la photo, j’envoie, et hop, c’est sur Flickr, Tumblr, Facebook et tout le reste. Je ne me limite pas à mon iPhone, bien sûr, mais c’est un outil précieux.

Allez, je vous fais visiter un peu.

Un immeuble en construction:

20040202_street_life_125

Stand de fleurs à Laxmi Road (si seulement je pouvais vous faire sentir!):

Pune Laxmi Road at Night (India 2004) 2

Des amis étudiants qui jouent au tennis:

20040201_tennis05_2

Stand de légumes et de rickshaws:

20040202_street_life_131

La lessive des voisins du dessous:

Pune 47 Rickshaw Ride Back to IUCAA.jpg

La maison où je loge en ce moment, mon ami Shinde et un de ses chiens:

Pune 45 Rickshaw Ride Back to IUCAA.jpg

Vue typique lorsque l’on voyage en rickshaw, ici dans le campus de l’université (magnifiquement vert et calme):

Pune 44 Rickshaw Ride Back to IUCAA.jpg

Loto de nouvel-an:

Pune 14 IUCAA New Year.jpg

Nisha qui rajuste une de mes kameez (en sept ans, disons pudiquement que j’ai pris un peu d’épaisseur ;-)):

Pune at the Shindes 8.jpg

En train d’attendre un rickshaw (avec effet de filtre instagram):

Waiting for a rickshaw

Et pour terminer, vous sauterez bien dans le rickshaw durant deux minutes? Petite séquence vidéo 🙂 — on entend d’abord le conducteur demander si on va jusqu’à l’intérieur du campus (c’est le cas), et Shinde dire au chien de rester tranquille derrière nous (on rentrait de chez le vétérinaire). L’Inde, c’est aussi ça!

Nisha's Prawn Bhaji [en]

[fr] Crevettes!

Another recipe! Yes, we eat more than once a day here 🙂

Week-end delicacy: we had fish and prawns for lunch today. I’ll post the fish recipe separately. The prawn recipe is pretty easy if you get the prawns already prepared — otherwise it’s quite a lot of work taking the shells off, as I got to see.

  • remove heads, tails, and everything you’re not going to eat from the prawns
  • mix the prawns with lemon, salt, haldi, ginger-garlic paste; leave to sit for a few hours
  • in a flat pan (Nisha says to use a tava, not a non-stick pan!) fry curry leaves, onion (quite a lot) and a little salt (the prawns are already salted so not too much salt)

Getting ready for the prawns

  • add a chopped tomato (not too much because there is already lemon in the prawns) — let the onions brown a bit
  • add a teaspoon of tandoori chicken masala and one spoon of red chilli powder (Nisha tells me she’d put two in if it were just for her and Shinde, they like it spicy)
  • stir the prawns in and cook slowly (no water!) — stir once in a while but mostly leave it alone until the prawns are cooked.

Pune - Prawn Bhaji in Tawa

Eat with chapatis!

Giving Yesterday's Daal a Second Life [en]

[fr] Un petit truc pour ressusciter la daal de la veille en y ajoutant d'autres épices.

Here’s what Nisha did the other day to give a second life to leftover toor and mung daal. Take a small pan and fry the following in oil, then add to the daal:

  • cumin and mustard seeds
  • garlic (crushed cloves)
  • red chilli powder
  • coriander leaves
  • goda masala

Add the coriander leaves and goda masala near the end, you want to roast the rest for longer.