The Mija Chronicles

Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border

India

Three things I learned at an ashram in India

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It’s not so easy to pick an ashram in India, especially if you’ve never been to India, and you’re not entirely sure what you’re looking for. I knew I wanted to study meditation, and breathing, and learn how to quiet my mind. But how could I even begin to choose a place? What if I chose poorly and ended up sleeping on a straw mat with mosquitoes biting me all night? (I was willing to do whatever for enlightenment’s sake, but with the least amount of misery possible.)

Nobody I knew had visited an ashram before. Ashram-review websites (“Check out the Top 10 ashrams in India!”) don’t exist. In fact, on the sites where people did share their ashram experiences, most people didn’t want to name the place, because everyone’s experience is different, and no one wants to unduly influence anyone.

I don’t want to unduly influence anyone either, but I’ve found so many people are truly curious about what the experience is like. So I’m going to share.
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The food of Bombay

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We spent 3 1/2 days in Bombay, and I ate like a glutton the entire time. This probably explains why my once-comfortable dark denim jeans can now barely fit around my waist. (Eating huge plates of rice for lunch at the ashram, and then falling asleep for two hours probably didn’t help either.)

But really: when was I going to be in Bombay again? It wasn’t even up to me. I had to have that crispy calamari with basil from Vong Wong. Had to try a few handfuls of the Indian-spiced snacks at the rooftop bar at Dome, while sipping my singapore sling. (A drink I’ve never ordered before, but hey, I was in Bombay.)

Check out the visual journey below. First up: idlis, fluffy, steamed cakes made from rice flour, and upma, a savory semolina porridge served with coconut chutney. Both came from Bombay’s Cafe Mysore.

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Indo-Mex fusion, and Jaipur’s lone Tex-Mex bar

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Quesadillas at an Indian Tex-Mex bar in Jaipur

It didn’t take long for me to start thinking about how to fuse Mexican food with Indian. Both use similar ingredients (chile peppers, onion, cilantro, flat breads), and both rely on a variety of salsas and sauces to compliment each meal. While slurping coconut chutney at Sagar on my second day in town, I thought: Why not coconut chutney on a taco? Why not a spicy sambar as a first-course sopa? With maybe some fideo noodles? There aren’t any rules that say we can’t do this. El mundo is our mariscos shell.

This type of thinking is dangerous for me, because I get really excited and then I start yammering on to Crayton, and then it becomes all I can think and/or talk about, and no doubt Crayton starts wishing that I’d move on to something else.

By the time we made it to Jaipur, the next leg of our journey, I was eager to share my Indo-Mex vision with someone else — namely, our friend Vikas, who lives in Bombay and planned to meet us in Jaipur. Jaipur is about three to four hours by train from Delhi, and the weekend we arrived happened to coincide with the Jaipur Literary Festival, a happening event that draws writers from all over India, and the West.

The festival was great. I bought a rose-printed kurta with red sequins that reminded me of Mexico, and we watched Tina Brown, Steve Coll and Vikram Chandra discuss whether the Internet has killed books. I was exhausted by 5 p.m. on the first day, but I couldn’t go to sleep, because then I’d be up at midnight, wide awake. So Crayton proposed pre-dinner drinks and apps at Amigo’s, a Tex-Mex bar he’d read about in our guidebook.

Vikas was skeptical. (He’s always skeptical.) But we convinced him in the end. (“C’mon! Three former Dallasites at a Tex-Mex bar in India! What could be better?”)

The place lay in the Om Tower Hotel, a somewhat shabby-looking cylindrical building guarded by a man wearing a Rajasthani turban. We took the elevator up several floors and exited into a dark tunnel, lined with rough rock. (Very old-school Space Mountain.) I’d expected sombreros and serapes, but the main room had been thoroughly blanketed in Western kitsch. Ceramic reclining cowboys supported glass-topped tables. There were ferns, and cactus, and mud-brown walls.

Interestingly, this place was marketed as upscale and trendy. We ordered vodkas mixed with lime juice, green chili and soda, a concoction Vikas suggested. They did have a few types of tequila, but both were strange brands that none of us had heard of. We also ordered quesadillas.

I wasn’t sure it was possible to create an Indian quesadilla, but that’s what we had. Two tortillas arrived covered in a béchamel-y white sauce, filled with a mildly spiced chicken (cumin-y, vaguely cinnamony), studded with a few bits of cilantro. There wasn’t any cheese, which was probably more authentically Mexican than they realized.

Over our drinks and quesadillas, I effused my vision of Indo-Mex fusion. The three of us threw out ideas: Potato masala tacos! Coconut chutneys as salsas! Tacos on chapati bread! At that moment, I desperately wanted a kitchen of my own in Jaipur so I could attempt to make some of this stuff. But alas, we were staying at a heritage hotel that didn’t include one.

It was a lovely night. After that, Indo-Mex fusion was my obsession on the trip, until I went to South India and became obsessed with upma and uttapam and savory breakfasts, and how to cook them using ingredients I can find in Mexico. I’ll get to that stuff later — I’ve already got a few recipes I want to share with you.

A few other things I enjoyed while in Jaipur:
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Delhi in a day

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The Baha'i Temple in Delhi

When we were planning our trip, we didn’t necessarily want to just spend one day in Delhi. What can you see in one day? It’s kind of a disgrace, especially if you think of yourself as the adventurous, special breed of traveler who has made it all the way to India. (As the guidebooks say over and over, India — with its poverty, and crowds, and traffic, and inefficiencies — is not for everyone.)

But Crayton and I only had two weeks together in Rajasthan and Mumbai, and we hoped to make it west to Jaisalmer, by gum, if our lives depended on it. That meant breezing through Delhi right after our plane landed. Delhi was a way-station — the place where our plane dropped us off, and where we refueled and reinvigorated before moving on to the next spot.

“Invigorating,” in the end, was not the correct word to describe Delhi. The place was loud. Polluted. Crowded. (Did I mention loud?) Men on bicycles, rumbly auto-rickshaws, cars, and pedestrians carrying bundles on their heads swarmed the streets. Every person with access to a horn honked it, as often as they could. I thought I knew horn-honking, but no. These people rarely paused. Just honk, after honk, after hooooooonnnnk…

When our plane landed at 9:30 p.m. on a Wednesday night, the entire city lay smothered with fog. As we taxied to the gate, outside it looked like we were still flying through the clouds. How did the pilot even find the runway? Later, I pondered the same thing about our cabbie, who attempted to drive us to our bed and breakfast with about two feet of visibility. Luckily we got there safely.

So yeah. We did not have much time in Delhi, and overall, I didn’t like it much. Not exaggerating when I say that when we left, I felt like I’d swallowed three liters of exhaust.

Negative Nelly-ness aside, there were a handful of things I did enjoy about Delhi. Our homestay, Delhi Bed and Breakfast, couldn’t have been more comfortable or quaint, and I’ll never forget slathering up potato parathas with butter and curd at breakfast, the kick-ass evening toast and tea, and sipping chai in the mornings.

I enjoyed our five-hour city tour, and winding through Old Delhi’s narrow streets on a rickshaw. And I loved my first introduction to South Indian food at Sagar Ratna, a dosa joint in Defense Colony.

I’ve listed each in more detail below, with photos. (Warning: Lots of photos. You may need a few minutes to scroll through them all.)
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Finally back from India!

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Got home Wednesday at 1 a.m., after a supremely long journey that included a 15-hour flight, a four-hour cab ride through windy mountain roads, snow delays, engine failure, and me walking around New York City with a scarf wrapped around my head, because I had no warm clothes. Strangely, I was intensely calm about the whole thing, the entire time. (Maybe I was just zonked out of my mind?)

Scratch that. I was not entirely calm when our American Airlines pilot announced we’d have to make an emergency landing in Little Rock because one of the engines had failed. But once the wheels hit the ground, I knew I’d make it home at some point, either by car, bus, or plane. This is what staying at the ashram helped me realize: a little faith can go a long way toward keeping my mind at peace.

I’ll get more into that later. For now, I just wanted to say hi, and let you know that I have lots more good India stuff coming. (Camel safaris! Savory breakfasts! Indo-Mex fusion! And some spiritual-mind stuff too.)

Thank you for being so sweet to Crayton. He did a kick-ass job blogging, and I am eagerly awaiting Mescalapalooza 2010.

More soon!

El Hindú de la Condesa

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While Lesley’s studying at an ashram in India, her husband Crayton is guest-posting. Please be kind to him.

I haven’t talked a lot about our trip to India because I’m sure Lesley’s going to have lots of observations she wants to share when she returns midweek next week, and I don’t want to steal her thunder. (And she will bring you THUNDER, people. She was telling me something about “savory breakfasts” the other night on Skype. She’s very excited about this concept. Just a little preview. Prepare yourselves accordingly.) But I saw something the other night that reminded me how small the world is.

I was drinking some Victorias with my buddy Roberto at El Centenario, a really enjoyable cantina in the Condesa neighborhood. Around midnight, after we had finally found a table amidst the throng of revelers and hovering musicians, I saw the man I will call the ropa-wallah.

I’d seen him once before, I think on a patio at some other nightspot in the Condesa. Around these parts you’d call him un hindú, which is the catch-all term for anyone of South Asian descent, regardless of religion or border, in the same way that un chino is any variety of East Asian. The ropa-wallah carries an enormous bag of Indian-style dress shirts (the short kurta style) with him, colorful clothes made with light fabric. I haven’t inspected them up close to vouch for their quality, but they seem pretty nice.

And so the thing is that Mexicans LOVE this guy. The ropa-wallah approaches potential customers in bars and restaurants with a disarming, eager smile, and he’s so excited about selling his shirts that it’s hard to resist. “Real Indian shirts!” he says. “They will look so nice on you! This color is the best!” I watched him unload shirt after shirt at a table near the Centenario’s entrance, and every once in a while, after the ropa-wallah had moved on, I’d see a tipsy Mexican amble back toward the bathroom, clad in a regal-looking shirt of turquoise, lime-green or orange.

I did a quick search online to see if anybody knows anything about the ropa-wallah. Only saw a brief discussion of him here, in the comments. (“El que vende ropa Hindú es la onda.”) Next time I see him – for surely this won’t be the last – I’ll try to get more info.

The sight of the ropa-wallah reminded me of our visit to Amigos Bar, a Tex-Mex-themed spot in Jaipur, India, just a few weeks ago. When we learned of the existence of this place, Lesley and I were immediately convinced that we had to go. (Our friend Vikas was not so enthused, but he good-naturedly came along.)

Amigos is at the top of the Hotel Om Tower, an odd-looking, cylindrical building that offers some pretty cool views of Jaipur, the capital of the rugged northwest desert state of Rajasthan. The decor is some sort of Indian interpretation of cowboy chic, with lariats and cacti and rocks. I got a picture next to a cowboy-mannequin who lay in repose, apparently after a long day of cattle-driving or whatever. (The photo’s on the camera Lesley has with her, so I will stick it in here when she gets back.) We ordered beers and a chicken quesadilla, which was covered in a creamy sauce, more like an enchilada. It was decent but could have used some spice, something picante.

Still, we were thrilled with the very concept of eating a quesadilla/enchilada in Jaipur, seeing how the food we know so well could be interpreted and altered in a country so many miles away. I felt that same thrill at the Centenario, watching the ropa-wallah outfit Mexicans in shirts like those they wear on the other side of the world.

Goodbye Bombay, hello ashram

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I’m off in about 15 minutes to the airport, for a flight bound for Madurai. From there I’ll take a three-hour taxi to Kodaikanal, and then a short jaunt up into the hills, to the ashram and my new home for the next 14 days. I won’t have Internet access except for Fridays, when we’re allowed to travel into the city. So this is goodbye for now, I guess.

Crayton will be guest-posting in the next few days… wonder if he’ll talk about Hooters again? (Just kidding honey, you talk about whatever you want. As long as it doesn’t have to do with camels and butt-soreness.)

I’m tired, and still getting over a nasty cold, but I’m excited about what lies ahead. Can’t wait to come back and share everything with you all.

Un beso,
L

Forts, camel safaris, and our arrival in Mumbai

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I can’t believe it’s all already almost over. Crayton heads back to the States in a few days, and I head to Madurai for the ashram. We’ve squeezed in as much as humanly possible over the past week — monkeys, camels, long car rides, strolls through 15th century forts. We ate Rajasthani food, comprising meat and vegetables in thick curried sauces, and a shredded type of green bean with capers. We camped out in the desert for a night outside Jaisalmer and slept under the stars.

Right now we’re both nursing sore throats — Crayton actually has a full-blown cold — so that’s probably a sign that we’ve done too much. (Don’t worry, parents, we have medicine and we’re fine.)

We arrived to Mumbai on Thursday afternoon, and so far I really like it here. It doesn’t seem as polluted, with the sea so close. And the water just makes everything feel… chill. Added plus: there are no car and bus horns waking me up at 6 in the morning, like there was in Delhi. Although I miss the funny blurping city bus horns.

Today we had dosas for breakfast, a South Indian specialty that’s a type of tube made of crunchy, thin rice flour, stuffed with various fillings. Then we wandered around the Colaba area and shopped. I bought a shameless amount of items at Fabindia. Later we had drinks at Dome, a bar overlooking the sea, and then more seafood for dinner. Dessert: Green chili ice cream from Bachelorr’s, a roadside stand off Marine Drive. It tasted like a roasted serrano dunked in cold cream.

A few shots for your viewing pleasure…

One of the massive walls of Nahargarh Fort in Jaipur, built in 1734

Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur, the foundation of which was laid in 1459.

Camel safari outside Jaisalmer…

”Monkeys

Bombay…

A cab in Bombay, with an upscale neighborhood's name emblazoned on the back

A few shots from India….

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It’s been a crazy past five days. We’ve visited three cities — Delhi, Jaipur and Agra — and are on our way to a fourth, Jodhpur. I’ve eaten about a dozen pieces of naan, steaming and crispy from a tandoor oven, and I’ve fallen in love with aloo paratha, thin potato pancakes we’ve had twice for breakfast. You slather them with butter, break of a piece, and use it to scoop up some yogurt. Utterly fabulous.

I’ve got a few minutes before we board, so here are a few shots…

Those potato parathas, made by the house servant at our homestay in Delhi…

Balls of naan, ready to be baked in a clay oven, outside of a restaurant in Jaipur.

A vegetarian thali from that same restaurant…

Off to India!

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I’ve mentioned this on the blog a few times, but tomorrow I’m off to India for entire month.

A month.

This is the longest trip I’ve taken since… well, since I studied abroad in college. Crayton and I will be in Rajasthan for about 7 days — Jaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer, Agra — and then Mumbai for three days. Then he’s coming home, and I’m trekking south to Tamil Nadu to study yoga and meditation for two weeks in an ashram. It’s going to be scary, chaotic, sleepless, and absolutely fantastic.

I do plan to blog while I’m there, but posting will be lighter than usual. Crayton also plans to do a few guest posts while I’m at the ashram and can’t blog anything at all. I really don’t know what I’m going to do without an Internet connection. (You will breathe, Lesley.)

I planned to have all of these fabulous blog posts ready for you over the next few days, but alas, it didn’t work out. l’ll miss you guys. I’ll be back Feb. 16 — in the meantime, les mando un besito y un abrazo fuerte!

*Photo by Palani Mohan for National Geographic Traveler