India Trip Story 1 (written a few days after Sept 11, 2001)

Here is my first rather lengthy rambling after week one of seven in India! Hope ya have some time to enjoy. Oh, if you read half way, you have to finish because the two halves read/give different impressions of this unique place.

Sometimes when you leave the country for a while, you feel so far away and you miss your friends, dog (Bernie), etc. When you travel though, you know, deep in your heart that no matter how much fun, or how many hard times you are having with your travels, that your home awaits you when you get back. I think most people think more specifically that their bed awaits them when they get back. Well as most of you on my regular updates know, I spent the better part of last year sleeping on an air mattress, so when I was fortunate to do some traveling I was actually sleeping in beds; therefore, not having that primal urge to get home to my air mattress.

For those of you who do not know, I am in India right now, 7 weeks total, for business. I also had to move out of my place right before I left and put everything in storage due to my lease ending while I am gone, so I will basically be homeless when I get back.

Well the trip so far has been a kick, I got to spend a few wicked fun days in London on the way, but as I just mentioned, I am in I-n-d-i-a now. It is Friday night, and I am of course writing in my hotel room, listening to perhaps my favorite Johnny Cash album, American Recordings III! Johnny has "Been Everywhere Man", the ironclad voice of all things Americana is rattling my little PC speakers, and I would not have it any other way. Johnny is here with me while I am away, amidst this week of tragedy.

So what is India like you may ask… well let me sugar coat it for, you take your life in your hands every time you walk outside in the street, (Big problem of looking the wrong way before walking across), it stinks, it is filthy, the poor/street people mob you every time you walk by, and cows are everywhere like other countries have rats or pigeons. Cows are in outdoor mall areas, streets, highways, and on the sidewalks. The nice thing about the cows on the sidewalks is that they eat the rotting trash that is mysteriously dumped there. Basically, think of trash piles on the street located where big roll around dumpster things might be in the US… minus the big roll around dumpster things.

The streets are Insane! (Trevor) You cannot really believe how many close calls there are, literally 10 or so per minute. I think of it as a video game to try to make some sense of it. "Driving in Delhi" Watch out for the motor rickshaw? 10 points to miss that big bull! 100 for sighting the three 3-wheel bike contraptions with nearly 1000 lbs. of #12 re-bar somehow bent and balanced in a way that the bike is not smashed to bits! I did want to see these gentlemen try stopping their loads of re-bar in a hurry, which is usually a necessity; mysteriously nobody was cutting them off. Insane Oxen carts carrying loads of bricks and sand from what appears to be one unfinished building project to the next. Watch out for the Propane tank delivery Cushman Golf Cart like vehicle that the wheel fell off, because he will probably just fix it right there in the middle of Delhi’s equivalent to the El Camino Real. He’ll fix it while sitting on one propane tank, using another as jack stand, while big trucks and buses whiz by his back as well as the 30 other propane tanks that he has laid in the road to make changing the wheel easier. Oh, BTW, I do not know if India has a Law against more than 5 people on a scooter like Thailand does, but I have not yet seen more than a family of 4 on one scooter so I have been somewhat disappointed.

Find the good in everything/anything is the next chapter. My best friend’s family had a lot of influence on me growing up, spending endless hours eating Teddy’s homemade salsa, or renting movies with Marc and Mr. Heckman, who I now call Randy. When you rent movies in a town of 2,754 people, a town that just recently attained its first big chain, (Circle K/76 station) you run out of good movies in about a month, or you get there too late because they only have one of each movie. Therefore, we would end up seeing movies like Psycho Cop! Marc and I would make our normal comments after the film, like "That was the worst movie ever!", "Could you believe the story line?" Then Randy would chime in, “I think that the cinematography was pretty good” or "The song selection was nearly good enough for a soundtrack"… I tell you that to tell you this… I think that I can find the good in any situation or make the best of circumstances, hell when life gives you warm vodka, a lemon wedge, and a pack of sugar… make a lemon drop (Liz). Therefore, I am going to make a giant lemon drop out of India and if you want to be along for part of the ride, you can read on.

So the lemon drop in the whole transportation nightmare is that I have yet to see an accident. It seems to be something like surfing a wave…. Everyone seems to know the strengths and weaknesses of each vehicle and where their vehicle will fit. It is a game of inches and timing between pedestrians, buses, trucks, bikes, and yes bikes with giant loads of re-bar on them. I would say that all these things go through each driver’s head before he decides whether to plow ahead, swerve, stop, or give way. As long as you make eye contact amidst the horn blaring, lights flashing, hand waving confusion, you will not die! I must note that horns do not mean I am pissed, they mean I am here or I am doing something you should know about. I could go off on a much longer tangent, but horns have as many variations in meaning as the word Dude can, just based off the tone, etc. Furthermore, not one person is even close to suffering from road rage.

The food is rockin’ good, although there is always an omnipresent fear of getting way sick. I have had about six variations of Nan so far. Nan is food of the gods, or manna from heaven in my book. When it is done right, made with love on the walls of a tandor, you will never have anything less than a texture/taste extravaganza in your mouth. The kabob dishes are excellent, and they are also made in the tandor oven. The food is very spice intensive, but not always as hot as I would like. Chicken chili kabob at Dawat Kahna is probably one of my favorite dishes, and it comes with char grilled spicy hot green chilies that you can cut up and eat with the rest of the meal. Well I have to stop talking about the food it is of course making my stomach start to rumble.

This next chapter is called I am still not gay… just and admirer of all things about women’s fashion. I have to say I have never seen so many beautiful fabrics in my life. The women have great sense for matching scarves, pashminas and saris. There are so many different ones it seems endless, and every style/design on the fabric is original and rock solid good. I cannot seem to tell if there are any women wearing anything inferior or out style, you know like the equivalent of say… an acid wash sari! I also found out the bindi, (traditional red dot on forehead) is mostly fashion these days. They come like stickers now, and in cool shapes, sizes, and colors.

So I am working on my second cup of Taj Mahal tea at the hotel’s free High Tea, which starts at 4:30. I am right by the lounge so I take the tea back in my room where I listen to music and type. It is Saturday now, I am listening to some rap, got to love Nate Dogg’s portion of “I’ve got Ho’s in Different Area Codes”, and that Eve and Gwen Stefani song is wicked as well. I think this Taj Mahal tea is way high in Caffeine so I cannot write much more.

Now, if you remember back to my first paragraph and were wondering what the hell I was talking about and if I was going to tie it into anything; let me just say, I think I am going to be thankful when I get home. Perhaps just somewhere short of the thankfulness a hostage has when he gets home. As I sit here in my five star hotel, I have no idea how safe travel will be by mid October. I think of how relaxed Americans have gotten in their beliefs on what freedom is all about and what it actually took to create and keep this freedom… I will be thankful to be home or to be back on Derek and Brian’s couch, since I am once again homeless.

India Trip Story 2

Well Update number two promises nothing here… except not to be as long. I am still in Delhi at the Crowne Plaza, It is nice and I know about everyone in my new world. I am sure the Plaza employees have to be nice, but I hope that the large smiling greetings I get are the rewards from my genuine appreciation and very large smile as well. I have the feeling that most people that stay in a hotel this nice don’t actually have the time or desire to meet the Ajit’s, Summett’s, Raju’s, Jintender’s and Madan’s of this crazy world, let alone learn and use their names.

My stay has been very plush as I mentioned, however, I did have a rather shocking experience the other day. I was just getting out of the shower, being only somewhat dried off, I reached for a shirt out of my closet and my hand hit the closet pole. The closet is very nice here, and it even has a light in it, except mine had burned out the day before. So standing with damp bare feet, grounded to a marble slab, I got the most intense shock of my life, electric shock that is. Somehow when the light had burned out the closet pole became “Hot” as an electrician would say. Feeling the current run through my hand, arm, body and clear down to my feet, I gave out a nice little yell. I was lucky enough that I did not actually grab the pole for whatever reason. When I finished getting dressed and later was leaving for work I decided to show an employee my new trick closet. Thoughts of “lick this metal pole, it tastes like candy, uh or mango chutney” did go through my mind, but instead I calmly explained to Ajit that I was nearly electrocuted. He made a bizarre head bobble and said, “I am sorry Mr. Mike, I heard you scream…” I asked him why he did not check on me; what if I had fallen and could not get up; yet again another confused head Bobble, but he said he would get it fixed. The light works again, but I have not touched the pole. I saw Ajit later and asked if he would touch it for me, and he said he already did when the electrician was done. If that is not love I don’t know what is!

I know a lot of you are worried about me and all that, but they did beef up security here in the hotel, no beef/cow pun intended. Our guards on this floor fall somewhere between the Indian equivalent to Gomer Pile or Barney Fife a.k.a. Mr. Furly. I don’t really think they could do much if there was a militant attack on our floor, but perhaps getting through these unarmed warriors would cause enough of a ruckus that I would be able to hide in the closet… if I did not electrocute myself in the process. Just kidding there, but perhaps I would have time to hook up a MacGiver like terrorist deterrent ‘thingy’ with hangers and the electricity from the pole and some chewing gum… oh forget it.

Lilly market, an Oasis in the Desert or (for you old D&D players) a Bag of Holding, you decide. Ashima, who I will discuss later, told us of her Cousin Brother’s store, Lilly Market, which is close to the hotel. A cousin brother is not as bad as it sounds, if you were conjuring up some sort of Appalachian family tree action… it basically means a cousin who is male. So I went to Lilly’s looking for cooking spices to bring home, and Cousin Bro had the works. I got Curries, six grams of Saffron, Chat masala, chicken masala, tikka masala, masala masala, and Mississippi masala!! Masala means spices mixed. So now I bet some of you have more appreciation for the title of the movie Mississippi Masala… which means what kids? Yep, a spicy relationship between an Indian woman and a Black man in the South.

Next trip to Lilly’s my colleague and I needed some Tabasco to enhance some of the bland dishes we were packing from the hotel to take to work for lunch, and now dinner. The Indian food at work is not that bad, a little high in oil, but not always the most hygienic. Others before us warned us, hence the packing of bland quiches and sandwiches from the hotel room service, and the need for Tabasco. Cousin Bro asked me if I want Red or Green, I took the red! I also bought two other chili sauces from him that a little man on a ladder was pulling out from seemingly unknown stocking positions way up the wall. The second chili sauce is now my new favorite in the whole wide world. It is like Sri Racha (some of you call it Rooster Sauce) and the chili paste that Mediterranean Wraps spreads on Falafel wraps in Palo Alto.

To give you a better appreciation of my appreciation of the variations of products Cousin Bro carries, he is yet ‘to not have’ something my colleagues or I have asked for. By the way, his store is smaller than most of your bedrooms, possibly half the size of my last room. I am so amazed by this man’s ability to have everything I want, I sometimes think of things to stump him. I asked for corn chips, thinking I might be able to make some salsa (I have not had Chips and Salsa since like 8/30) and he says Regular or Jalapeno. I am about to walk away excited when he asks if I want salsa, my eyes light up when the little man on the ladder hands it down. I see that it is mild, and I am upset until he has little man hand down Senor Pepito’s hot! I also had a colleague request for toothpaste without mint, he had that as well. Recently we have added Kodak Film, he has all speeds, Zippo fuel for a smoking colleague, a luggage lock, hot chocolate mix, and granola which was an unhappy adventure for the little ladder man. He had to shimmy up a fixed ladder, through a hole in the two foot wide shelf that encircles the top of the room, then avoid the blades of a fan that were spinning faster than any ceiling fan possibly should. He did not really know what granola was in any language and he had to throw down three very dusty boxes before he got the right one. I think that he honestly has every single thing I could possibly want while I am here.

So I just found a website for Senor Pepito. I think this marketing copy is priceless and worth a laugh.

Senor Pepito Tortilla Chips are processed from a modern sheeted line and are unique in taste, crunch and mouth fill. They are perfect meal substitute and when had with Senor Pepito Salsa, the experience is a gastronomic delight.

Senor Pepito Tortilla Chips are available in Nacho and Jalapeno flavours. Senor Pepito Salsa is available in 2 flavours, namely Flaming Hot and Slightly Spicy.

Senor Pepito range is very popular with the teenagers, the young and happening crowd and the beer guzzlers. More importantly, Tortilla Chips are very trendy and considered a status symbol.

Ashima, the cousin sister, is a smart young woman that is a student of German language. She runs her father’s store in the atrium of the hotel. The store has nick knacks and stuff, and I bought a bracelet from her. My colleague Jen found the store and we have been there to chat with her numerous times and have tried to arrange dinner with her and her family at their house at their request. She is one of those folks that makes you want to use that word great aura and I cannot really describe her with words much more, so I won’t.

Back to what I do best: This is the part where Mike talks about the food part of the update.
We found a Pan Asian place called Lotus Pond. Tom Kah Gai was on the menu so I gave it a shot. I was not disappointed. For those of you that remember my cooking class experience in Thailand, this is the Thai spicy, sour, coconut milk, soup with chicken. It is a taste extravaganza. The stock is chicken and lemon juice, with coconut milk added in for a little cream to take the harshness off the juice. Chopped galengal (cousin of ginger), lemon grass, cracked open chilies, and kafir lime leaves are all in the soup, and not meant to be eaten, like a Bay leaf in Italian cooking. Then mushrooms chicken, cilantro, and a splash of fish sauce and you are in heaven. Oh, a touch of sugar may be needed to take that last extra sour edge off and then you are really in heaven.

As for some more Indian food, that is incredibly good, Aloo Brahta is right in line with plain Nan as a food of the gods. It is almost like Nan that has been more meticulously hand worked. A spicy potato, onion, herb/masala mixture is then somehow rolled into the center of a ball of this dough, the whole thing is rolled out twice the thickness of a tortilla, and grilled with some oil on a hot iron surface. I got to watch this entire event today since I have moved out of the hotel and I am now in the company guesthouse, which comes complete with two Indian chefs. Yes, I know what you are thinking; this is the best situation that Mike could ever hope for. I am in heaven and they probably think that I am quite bizarre watching and asking so many questions, but hopefully it will be worth it. Enough food for now, because once again it is right before dinner and I can’t take it. Tonight’s menu is the chefs own Tandoori chicken, Aloo Gobi, Chapati, rice, and Daal… and yes he and I have already gone over the ingredients and marinating instructions in detail.

Ciao,

Miguel

India Trip Story 3

Well I am out of India and currently on a flight from Chicago to San Francisco… Tony Bennett will soon be crooning his famous song for me; I left my heart in San Francisco. I am not kidding here at all; it is about ready to go into my CD Walkman. I brought 2 Tony Bennett CD’s with me out of 25 total. I know some of ya’s are thinking yuck, why would you listen to Tony Bennett, especially, why would you bring two CD’s when you could only bring 25 total! The long drawn out reasoning is, Tony may have been one of those old farts some of your parents or in my case, friend’s parents (Teddy Heckman) made you listen to, while mumbling something like, and “this is real music". Meaning, your Twisted Sister and Boy George was crap… well all I can say is give him another chance now that you’re all ‘growns’ up, he still performs to sold out audiences, he did an MTV unplugged show as well, proving his cross-generational appeal… (Is cross-generational a word?). So I said all that to say this, I really can’t wait to be back in San Francisco at this point, and you will only find Boy George and Twisted Sister in VH1’s where the hell are they now file.

Well a lot of bizarre stuff happened in India right as I was leaving—I left early and decided to take some vacation in the UK. I may not be employed when I get back due to a miscommunication with my boss and my decision to take some comp time, but I have no regrets. England and Scotland are great, and I love all the little differences between there and the USA. Vincent Vega described some similar little differences in Pulp Fiction and I will point out a few others here as well. First things first, never complement someone on their pants. Pants are underwear, and trousers are pants. The next thing is chips and crisps. French fries can be chips in the USA, as in "fish and chips". But in the UK, they are always chips, even with burgers or just by themselves. So how do you get American chips? You say crisps, of course. I caught myself numerous times messing this up, but not the pant/trousers thing; I messed that up in the states with some Euro friends, so I was forewarned.

We will call this section the "Not my usual food description section", but none the less still about food. More stuff in the same spirit of Pulp fiction here, a conversation that I imagined happening when I got back to the states:

Mike: You know what they call a quarter pounder with cheese in India?

Derek: Let’s see, they are on the metric system there, right?

Mike: They call it McSacrilegious dude, Hindus don’t eat beef, and it is not even a filthy animal.

Mike: You know what they call a Big Mac?

Derek: I know this one, so I’ m telling you now, it is an Abu Mac.

Mike: No dude a Maharajah Mac… but it is made from water buffalo or ox or something.

Derek: Ox is a filthy animal.

Mike: You know what they call a veggie burger?

Derek: Mc I give up!! Dude, how long are we going to play this bit?

Mike: A McAloo Tikki Burger! I recommend to hold the special sauce cause they really do drowned em’ in that stuff.

McDonald's has never been better I do have to say. By the way, I coined a trip motto, which was then shared with the others. I think most everyone on the trip would agree that the secret to being happy with anything here is if, that ‘anything’… "Exceeds expectations!" The Golden Arches definitely exceeded mine, and the fries tasted like Ray Crock had made them himself. I will try to champion this saying in the states. I know that most of you have had movies/food ruined for you by someone over hyping it. Here is an example of how building things up can affect your own rating of something. "Dude, did you see Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo? Oh man this is the best movie ever, better than Breakin’ and better than Roller Boogie, which, if you remember, we sneaked into and sat through twice." Having a friend’s critique like this obviously makes it hard for the movie to live up to ones expectations…. This is why from now on, when I really like something I am going to down play it for my friends. I will merely say, "Oh yes, The Slanted Door (Restaurant) it exceeded expectations.", no more no less from this guy. No more long babbling about delicious texture & taste rich foods. I am sure that I have actually been hurting the restaurant industry by hyping up every place I go. This is why I must preach my new motto everywhere I go and get the… oh forget it, I think I will always babble on about food.

So in Update I: India or Bust, I told everyone I was going to make the best of this trip so to speak, a Giant Lemon Drop. I hope that I have painted a positive picture of most things. To be most honest, this has been the most bizarre, physically and mentally draining, frustrating, scary, upsetting, defiant, two-month period in my life. I really don’t even want to touch the tip of the iceberg of all that negativity right now, so I won’t.

So, I am still working for Tele Atlas, and I don’t believe I am going to get fired for going somewhat AWOL (reason here withheld, but having to do with the negativity I said I would not go into) in England and Scotland (me at Loch Ness) for a week. I will have no regrets if I do get fired; I had a much-needed blast that last week in the UK, and it gave me some much-needed down time to deal with all the crazy stuffages. I even think that I will be giving the VP a piece of my mind rather soon… which shouldn’t take long J

I do have to add, not related to the aforementioned problems, but adding a whole new realm of the surreal to this trip, that one of my colleagues from Menlo Park was killed during our trip to the Taj Mahal a few weeks ago. He drifted away from our group for a few moments… and in my mind often I look for answers other than the brief explanation of him being struck by a large vehicle, but as the police said, " We know nothing more than he was struck by a large vehicle." I have never dedicated an update that I remember, but this last one goes to David Rose. I think he would have enjoyed it. David was not a talkative guy but he did say something that I thought was about as funny as they come, and it just so happen to be about food. I will try to do it justice in the next paragraph...

At a party at the guest house, the chef’s went on a fried appetizer spree. Fried battered vegetable things, kind of like battered falafel. Fried battered chicken, and of course one of America’s favorite, battered fried cheese! David pulled a limp piece of metly cheese not really worthy of the name cheese 'stick', off of the serving tray and took a bite. He kind of made a face and looked at the remaining portion in his hand. A pocket had developed and there was a little vat of oil in his remaining piece, which he then set down on his plate. In a delivery not unlike Steven Wright he said, "It tastes like deep fried… erh deep .. fry." Somehow, I knew what he meant. I hope all the deep fry is good where he is now. Here is the last picture taken of David, I hope to take the negatives back and get a better digital Image and give it to his parents someday if I can find them.

Mike out, until the next adventure.