SPANISH COOKERY IN INDIA

In a year you have time to get used to things and to get fed up with them. You also have time to miss others. It's not my case. I didn't really miss anyone or anything, but Spanish food was always welcomed. 

Sometimes, when my friend and I got really bored, we began fantasizing about having a Western dinner. We had a craving for pizza and paella, respectively. Sometimes we dreamed up a whole menu. It didn't sate our hunger; it only made our mouths water. 

After some months in India, my friend brought me a little can of olive oil. I remember having some toast with it as my Christmas lunch. I couldn't imagine a better delicacy than that! Every now and then I poured a few drops on a tomato and cucumber salad. Yummy! I made it last as if it were black gold! 

On another occasion he told me on the phone he had bought some ham for me. More than ever I was longing for his coming back. My surprise was when I opened the packet. It was not the famous Spanish Serrano ham but the boiled version; which is nice, but not that inviting. Don't get me wrong! I ate it with pleasure. 

Finally, the real ham came. It was the best present ever. I was about to set up an altar for it as Indians do for their gods. Moreover I know it was an odyssey to get it, so I appreciated it even more. My friend had to run like a maniac in the supermarket and nearly missed the bus. It's a pity I'd run out of oil by then. 

 

Although I am a fussy person, I was determined to try everything I was offered. Indians are not that way, though. 

They are not really fond of fungi. Once I was walking in the country and I saw some mushrooms, similar to the oyster mushrooms we eat in Spain. I decided to cook them for me and for the boarding school workers. I've got to admit that the dish left a lot to be desired, but the fact is that they didn't even make the effort to try them. Only one of them tasted the mushrooms, and, using Indian absence of sincerity, said they were OK, but he didn't have a second helping. 

Another day, taking advantage of the fact that the 'bosses' were away, I prepared a paella. Well, sort of! It had all its ingredients (adapted to the Indian market) but it was tasteless. Being an expert in rice dishes as I am, I guess it's the kind of rice used there, which doesn't absorb flavours. Everybody tried it, but as it was not hot, they didn't like it. Only when they added pickle or any other hot sauce, did they eat it.

And the same happened with another rice dish I prepared (tuna rice). Everyone added any available pungent sauce. My friend and I had two helpings, though. It was a time when we were a bit weary of the repetitive Indian cuisine. 

And the same old story when my mother came to visit me, and so to show the cooks some Spanish cooking, she sautéed some chicken livers (which were delicious, by the way). Six of one and half a dozen of the other! It was not hot. Translated into 'Indian', it was waste. 

But all in all, I love Indian food. And I missed it when I was in the Dominican Republic. The spices prevent you from sweating, which would have been great in such humid weather. 

The idea of opening a Spanish restaurant somewhere has crossed my mind. Now, taking full account of my fiasco, I know it can't be in India. 

P.S.: The awesome paella at the beginning of this post is not the one I cooked! 

INDIAN SUPERSTITIONS

India, being the hub of diverse cultures and traditions, is also home to myriad superstitions. There superstitions abound. They are usually attributed to lack of education. Yet, they are followed stringently, even by the so-called liberated, modern, scientific minds. Though most of them don't want to believe them, these practices are so deep rooted that Indians are not prepared to take the risk of ignoring them. Some of these beliefs are centuries old and have a story behind that makes them logical, but we simply forget why we started doing it and now do it mechanically. Some have their basis in religious beliefs, others in scientific facts and others in no conceivable reason.

 

One superstition that cracked me up was when one of the cooks, Anitha, after witnessing two or three of the rows I had with my 'bosses' there (showing my strong character, which is something a woman never does in India), stared at my toes and blurted, "Now I know why your husband left you! Your index toes are longer than your big toes! That's why!" I laughed my ass off!

 

On another occasion I was cutting my nails and some of my students screamed blue murder. They came running to warn me of the dangers of doing so on that day. I don't remember which day it was, but one of them told me that cutting your nails on a Friday or Tuesday is considered bad luck. But then another student said that it was not on a Tuesday, but on a Thursday. So... And the same happens with your hair. Mind you which day you go to the hairdresser's!

 

A separate chapter is needed for menstruation! That is a taboo. Nobody speaks openly about having their period or needing a sanitary towel. I've also had some funny stories trying to 'smuggle' a sanitary napkin in a class. Menstruating women are considered impure and unclean. This, of course, gives rise to many superstitious beliefs. Women on their period can't touch certain plants. They would die (the plants, not the women). One day, Leena, the other cook, whispered in my ear to pluck some leaves of a plant to cook; she said she couldn't do it because she had 'that thing'. When I told her that I also had 'that thing', we had to go and find a purer soul to do it.

 

A woman who is menstruating is also supposed to stay away from temples, mosques and all religious spots in the house itself. The cleaner in charge of sweeping the church next to the school where I taught had to ask the other cleaner to do it. She simply crossed herself and went past the church.

 

When a girl's first menstruation arrives there is a ritual. The girl is specially dressed and decorated with bracelets and mehndi; she has meetings with women as well as the whole family. Each girl undergoes a short separation time, when she is fed special food to get extra strength. During this time she is visited by friends; she can't leave the house (for 9 days, if I remember correctly). Elder women sing songs for her and prepare her a scented bath. She is usually wrapped in beautiful fabric and she receives presents.

 

 

Astrology is an integral part of Indian culture. Even today, many people prefer to do some things such as entering a newly made home, fixing a marriage proposal or a marriage date, starting a new business, etc., according to their astrological belief. These auspicious dates are often decided by an astrologer.

 

Then they have the lizards. If a lizard makes a sound when you make a statement, that's a good omen. It indicates that what you said is true. If a lizard falls on your body, that also means something. And they do fall! Never in my life has a 'Spanish' lizard fallen on me. Yet, while I was in India, they fell on me every other day! If one falls on your head, then you are ready for a clash; if it falls on your shoulder, that means victory; if it falls on your hands, you may expect financial profits. And that goes on and on and on.

 

Another jinx is seeing a black cat. Especially when you're going to work. You are supposed to turn round, go back into your house, pray and then go to work. Either you do that or your work that day won't be successful.

 

Never ever use your left hand to give or take anything (you know what the left hand is used for in India!).

 

It also brings bad luck standing in a doorway. You cannot stand on the threshold. You either get in or out. That is exactly the opposite of what we are told here, where there is risk of having earthquakes.

 

And the last superstition I can recall has to do with babies. This one made me laugh out loud! Anitha had a baby. You know that Indians make a fuss about the skin colour. The darker, the uglier! So, Anitha had a pretty dark baby. She is quite dark, too. So no surprise whatsoever (for me). She admitted that she was to blame, but not because she is rather black, but because she didn't have pomegranate or powder milk while she was pregnant! If she'd had, the result would have been completely different. I wonder if Indians think that the mothers of albino children are on a pomegranate and powder milk diet all their pregnancies and the diet gets out of hand at some point. Ah! I had forgotten! Women always sit on the floor to do all the tasks, but during her pregnancy she insisted on sitting on the floor and not using one of the low stools we had in the kitchen. The reason? If you sit on a stool or a chair while you are pregnant, your child's nose will be huge! My mother must have sat somewhere really high!

 

Another superstition babies have to put up with is having that kohl dot their mothers put on their faces to ward off evil eye. The 'logic' behind this process is that doing so makes the child in question look ugly, and therefore unattractive to the evil eye.

 

 

I possibly forgot some of the superstitious stories, but with this bunch you can have an idea of how credulous (I didn't want to use the word gullible) Indians are!  

THREADING

 

Threading is an ancient method of hair removal that has been practiced in India for over 6000 years, but for me it was something unknown. I'd seen it ina a documentary on televisión (if you haven't, take a gander at the ling at the end of the blog), but I'd never tried. It's hever crossed my mind. But one day, I was at a hairdresser's in Hyderabad and the "hairdresser" began doing it to a client. I wrote hairdresser between quotation marks because she was not a conventional one. She began cutting my hair without even wetting it, let alone washing it! When I nicely reprobated her method, she just sprayed some water on my hair to moisten it. It's fair to say that some months later I went to another salón in Bangalore and there the hair stylist did cut my hair Western-style.

 

As I was saying, a woman was having her moustache done. Seeing that she didn't seem to suffer much, I decided to give it a try, but not without first asking for the price. As I mentioned in another post, tariffs are usually different for Indians and for foreigners. I was given a reasonable figure so I ventured to have my eyebrows done. The beautician took a long piece of thin thread in her hands and mouth, doubled it and then twisted it. She then rolled it over my eyebrows, plucking short lines of hair. It was fast, precise, cheap and painless.

 

Later on, I went again with my friend Leena to a salón in Punganur. That time it was also OK. Not that fast, but at least it was painless. But the last time I went (even though it was the same specialist) it was as painful as hell. Had it been that excruciating the first time, I'd never have had it done again. That day I learnt to say 'pain' in Telugu, which, by the way, I still remember: NOPPI.

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=LERu-x79TIU

SWASTIKA

At this stage of the game you must have realized that everything in India shocked me. Another thing that startled me was the Swastikas.

 

I saw Swastikas everywhere, on cars, buses, buildings, autos, clothing, business logos and even on cakes. Swastikas seemed to be ubiquitous! I've even read that Swastik and Swastika are common first names for males and females respectively (I didn't meet anyone called like that, though!).

 

Of course, I (biased by the western stigmatized idea of being associated with Nazism, anti-Semitism, hatred, violence, death and murder) immediately thought that Indians were crazy and had all been abducted by Hitler's spirit! I actually freaked out! Surprisingly, I don't have any anecdotes to tell you. I didn't insult any Indian calling him Nazi or anything of the kind.

 

Later I learnt that before the Nazis used this symbol to show racial purity and superiority, the Swastika was used my many cultures to represent the sun, life, power, strength and good luck.

 

The Swastika, in case you don't know,  is an equilateral cross, with four arms of equal length with the end of each bent at a right angle, all in the same rotary direction. sometimes dots are added between each arm.

 

Jainas use it to remind the worshiper of the four possible places of rebirth (in the animal or plant world, in hell, on Earth, or in the spirit world).

 

In Hinduism it represents the principle originating the universo of life, with the four swirling arms representing the four faces of Brahma. The right-hand Swastika is a solar symbol, while the left-hand one (called Sauvastika) stands for night, the terrigying goddess Kali and magical practices. In Sanskrit it means literally 'well-being' or 'everything is well'. Hindus draw them on the doors and entrances to their houses during festivals to symbolize an invitation to goddess Lakshmi. In Indian custom, new cars are sometimes painted with a Swastika to signify blessing for road safety. It also represents the natural order, wealth, desire and liberation.

 

And Buddhists refer to it as the Seal on Buddha's Heart.

 

So, the moral would be: before judging (assuming, for example, that an entire country is nuts), get informed!

 

MISSING, MISSING, MISSING

Exactly one year ago I left India. It might seem silly (what's the big deal of leaving a country in which you've only lived for just one year?), but for me it was quite tough.

 

I left the little adventures that filled every day.

 

I left a new routine which made me feel comfortable. I had finally got used to the Indian set of values (the complete lack of personal intimacy, the flexibility of truth, the sheer volume of life and their totally bizarre concept of taste included). I simply learnt to roll with it.

 

I left the freedom of not having to worry about things. Having a look at the problems some people there have, your bills, your divorce, your... seem trivial.

 

I left the fact of being busy (which I love and need). Either helping in the boarding school kitchen or listening to the children's crazy stories, I constantly had something to do.

 

I left...

 

I left...

 

But above all I left some friends. I feel brokenhearted as day by day it's clearer that things will never be the same. With some of them I can barely speak, since they don't speak much English and I've forgotten the little Telugu I picked up. There the non-verbal communication replaced our language barriers. But on the phone (apart from being extremely expensive) it's a horse of a different colour. And the people I can speak English with are so busy they don't have time to share with me. (It's not a complaint). I just feel I miss them more than they miss me, which, on the other hand, is completely acceptable. But I can't help feeling stranded. I miss spending my time with them. Last night, for example, I slept on the floor and that reminded me of the times my friend and I did there. Again it might seem silly, but... I feel I was part of their lives and now I'm part of their past. I'm only some 'nice' fellow they met. Everybody seems to be moving on but me.

 

What I feared would happen has happened! But I guess it's the same as what Paulo Coelho wrote about love: It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Living in India was worth it!

The tone of my blog conveys that I'm feeling quite down, so to cheer myself up I've written a list of all things I won't miss about India:

 

-The lack of toilet paper

 

-The lack of Western manners ('please' and 'thank you' for instance)

 

-Practices such as shoving, poking, spitting, littering, and public urination and defecation

 

-Bargaining

 

-Overly persistent salespeople who descend on foreigners like vultures on a fresh carcass

 

-Bureaucracy and snappy, unhelpful, corrupt authority figures

 

-Needless paperwork

 

-Illogical and inefficient ways of getting things done

 

-Painful slow internet connections

 

-Inadequate infrastructure

 

-Cramped trains and buses

 

-Small, bumpy, and crowded roads

 

-Hearing the same Bollywood, Tollywood or similar songs over and over again

 

-Not being able to understand most conversations and not being understood

 

-The fact that people rarely explain what's going on (even if it affects me directly)

 

-The lack of clear, useful information when it is needed most

 

-Streets filled with garbage, excrement, and every other type of filth imaginable

 

-The prevalence of firmly entrenched, old-fashioned gender roles

 

-Living in a country where women are often restricted from everything

 

-Being asked when I intend to get married and why I am not

 

-The cast system

 

And maybe you're wondering: with that long list, how is it possible that she misses chaotic India?

 

Well, I do!

 

HAGGLING

Exactly one year ago I left India. It might seem silly (what's the big deal of leaving a country in which you've only lived for just one year?), but for me it was quite tough.

 

Saying that haggling is the usual way of doing business in India would be a euphemism. I think Indians learn this word before they learn to say mommy or daddy!  

 

In India each and every deal is negotiable: food, clothes, taxi fare, dowry,... the list has no end! You must work out a deal at the butcher's, at the fismonger's, at the bakery,... everywhere!

 

 

 

 

The first sale of the day is considered to bring good luck, so it's the right moment to get a good price!

 

 

But the real paltering takes place at souvenir shops.

 

A piece of advice: never, ever show that you are interested in something! Pretend to be indifferent; it doesn't matter how much you want it! If they see the teeny tiniest enthusiasm in you, you're screwed up!

 

The game begins when you ask "how much is it?" They start off with an astronomical price, and that is in deference to us, foreigners! They think we are all filthy rich!

 

 

At the very beginning, I have to admit that I was fooled. I paid 275 rupees for a churidar. If I had bought it two weeks later, when I was more experienced, I'd have only spent 100. When my mom came to visit me, I wanted her to try a vegetable which we cannot find in Spain (if I remember well, it's called bitter gourd). I paid for a pound of it the same amount of money my friend spent on veggies for fifty people in a week!

 

 

But then I learnt! Whenever I went to a tourist site, I was asked exorbitant prices for simple knick-knacks. Then I pointed at my clothes, my mehndi and my anklets and said, "But can't you see that I am already half Indian? You have to charge me what you'd charge an Indian!" I know for sure I paid more than the local folks, but I got to lower the price by at least 80%! 

 

Although bartering can be awkward for most foreigners, you have to find the bright side: you can have free tea! Salesmen offer tea to posible customers, so you just have to display some enthusiasm and... voilà... free chai (which is delicious, by the way)! 

 

Another way of taking advantage of eager shopkeepers is getting to know the place with the inestimable auto drivers' tourist guidance. They get a meal coupon or a petrol voucher for taking clients-to-be into some shops. That is what I did in Delhi. I saw part of the city in an auto (all by myself, not with 18 people more), I had some free chai, I went shopping (which I love) and (why not  confess it?) bought some stuff (mind you, real bargains!).

 

 

BELCHING

I am far from being a clean freak or germaphobe (or any of that shit), but India was far too fond of body noises for me at the very beginning!

 

There are a lot of no-nos in India, but there seems to be no taboo about coughing, farting, pissing, shitting, picking your nose, blowing your nose straight onto the pavement or onto your hand (and then wiping your hand in your clothes), spitting everywhere, bringing up phlegm before firing it out on the road and, of course, burping. Those are things they do with complete impunity!

 

But burping, especially burping, is socially accepted, even appreciated. They do like a huge, audible appreciation belch after a rich and spicy meal. It is a sign that you've enjoyed your meal and an indication of satiety.

 

But this sonorous post-meal belch seems weird to the uninitiated. It did to me, anyway!

 

I knew it was custormary to burp out loud. But the very first time I was eating in India and one of the fellow eaters at my table let go such a powerful burp that I'd have been less shocked if I'd seen an elephant flying, it made me lose my appetite; it made me want to scold him and follow up with a lesson on good manners.

 

On the second occasion, I was urged to start a little chat on the basics of hygiene. Nonetheless, here's the rub: the strange one around there was me. I was the uninvited guest who was in no position to criticize the habits and the culture of more than one billion hosts. Especially considering that I too, by ignorance or neglect, did things that were considered rude there.

 

One of the bosses there, made a great effort so that I got used really fast. He went all out; he gave everything he had! The minute he finished eating, he began belching. He let go a good 30 times, one after the other, after every meal. He did it, specially, while we went back from the dining-room to the school. No wonder why I stopped having breakfast, lunch and dinner with him altogether!

 

So, as the saying goes, "when in Rome, do as the Romans do!" So, when in India,... 

 

After all, as someone said, "who does not burp not fart is doomed to explode".