I have missed many days, but it isn't because I don't want to blog. I am too tired when we arrive back at the hotel and have dinner. All I want to do is sleep. So I will do what I can in the meantime and finish it when I'm back in Delhi.
While we were in Delhi, Obama came to visit. Well, that is not exactly true. We left the day he arrived. The city was shot down tight, and no one could move anywhere, so we decided that would be a good time to travel.
As Clinton and Bush before him, Obama made some strides and left with the Indian populace happier than before he arrived. I am sure that Americans will be happy as well, since he managed to create 70000 jobs. Or maybe not. Who knows?
I have been quite alarmed at the lack of knowledge for other cultures that has been shown by the Obamas. He bowed deeply to the emperor of Japan when he should have just nodded. After all, Obama is the head of state and should show that he is. Here in India he put his arm around Man Mohan Singh. People here do not touch each other at all in public.
Michelle seems to have a problem as well. She was touchy feelie with the Queen of England, and it shocked the Brits. And insisting on shaking hands with a conservative Musljm has made problems for the Indonesian official. One should be natural, of course. But in so doing, one needs to understand what makes another uncomfortable.
Perhaps he has advisers who have never traveled or been taught by the State Department how to behave in various countries. Sometimes a cultural faux pas can destroy all the good that was done.
Showing posts with label India: Delhi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India: Delhi. Show all posts
10 November, 2010
04 November, 2010
Arrival of our Friends
November 2, 2010
Today I got up at 4:30 to meet Jette and Kjeld at the airport. The plane was due at 6:30 AM, but was half an hour late. I sat dying of thirst and bought myself a coke. Then I sat with a young girl, who told me she wanted to see the world as an airline hostess. I set her straight on that, explaining she would never see the world, because when she arrives at her destination, she is too tired to site see and sleeps until the next day when she is expected to return. On top of that she is really a high class waitress. Of course, there are the times when a hostess uses her education to help save people under crisis situations, but they are few and far between. The main job is to serve people food and listen to her complaints. No, this is not something to spend your youth wishing for.
At 8:30 Jette and Kjeld came out of customs. I was very happy to see them, because I had been alone for three days, with only a few hours to see Mohini and Rama at the Senior Center. I had always stayed with Mohini before the move. And though we disagreed occasionally, it was a home away from home. After a day out in Delhi traffic, I could return to a nice meal and conversation.
Jette and Kjeld didn’t even look tired. So I called Ramchandra, the driver lent to us by KB, and he brought the car to take us back to the hotel. We decided to have breakfast, go out for a walk and then see. Breakfast is included in the cost of the room, so we ate well and then walked to the Barista for a decent coffee. Luckily I had sought out the coffee shop a couple of days previous, so I knew where to go.
Walking in India is a bit of a challenge. You are accosted by touts, doing everything but drag you to a shop where they get commissions, by three wheeler drivers, promising you a grand tour for nothing and beggars, a number of which have become entrepreneurs selling newspapers, magazines and various other things.
We arrived at the Barista, had a wonderful coffee and talked. Then off to the ATM, where I realized I hadn’t told the bank I was traveling, and they had blocked the money. Oh well, that can be remedied. Off to Thomas Cook, where Jette and Kjeld wanted to change money. I showed them how to check for a counterfeit note, because I had been caught a couple of times with one.
We had lunch and settled in for a short nap. After two hours, they were ready to go again. I suggested we take a three wheeler to Old Delhi. It was hilarious. The scooter zips in and out of traffic, Kjeld and Jette giggling like two teenagers. When Jette had said to her son that she was worried about getting a disease in India, he told her that once in traffic she will lose that fear. And so it happened. You can’t understand it until you’ve been there. It was such fun for me, watching them watch the traffic. I am getting jaded.
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Today I got up at 4:30 to meet Jette and Kjeld at the airport. The plane was due at 6:30 AM, but was half an hour late. I sat dying of thirst and bought myself a coke. Then I sat with a young girl, who told me she wanted to see the world as an airline hostess. I set her straight on that, explaining she would never see the world, because when she arrives at her destination, she is too tired to site see and sleeps until the next day when she is expected to return. On top of that she is really a high class waitress. Of course, there are the times when a hostess uses her education to help save people under crisis situations, but they are few and far between. The main job is to serve people food and listen to her complaints. No, this is not something to spend your youth wishing for.
At 8:30 Jette and Kjeld came out of customs. I was very happy to see them, because I had been alone for three days, with only a few hours to see Mohini and Rama at the Senior Center. I had always stayed with Mohini before the move. And though we disagreed occasionally, it was a home away from home. After a day out in Delhi traffic, I could return to a nice meal and conversation.
Jette and Kjeld didn’t even look tired. So I called Ramchandra, the driver lent to us by KB, and he brought the car to take us back to the hotel. We decided to have breakfast, go out for a walk and then see. Breakfast is included in the cost of the room, so we ate well and then walked to the Barista for a decent coffee. Luckily I had sought out the coffee shop a couple of days previous, so I knew where to go.
Walking in India is a bit of a challenge. You are accosted by touts, doing everything but drag you to a shop where they get commissions, by three wheeler drivers, promising you a grand tour for nothing and beggars, a number of which have become entrepreneurs selling newspapers, magazines and various other things.
We arrived at the Barista, had a wonderful coffee and talked. Then off to the ATM, where I realized I hadn’t told the bank I was traveling, and they had blocked the money. Oh well, that can be remedied. Off to Thomas Cook, where Jette and Kjeld wanted to change money. I showed them how to check for a counterfeit note, because I had been caught a couple of times with one.
We had lunch and settled in for a short nap. After two hours, they were ready to go again. I suggested we take a three wheeler to Old Delhi. It was hilarious. The scooter zips in and out of traffic, Kjeld and Jette giggling like two teenagers. When Jette had said to her son that she was worried about getting a disease in India, he told her that once in traffic she will lose that fear. And so it happened. You can’t understand it until you’ve been there. It was such fun for me, watching them watch the traffic. I am getting jaded.
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01 November, 2010
Looking for coffee a South Indian meal
Unfortunately I am one of those people who has to have coffee in the morning. I can only be happy that it isn't a cigarette. However, the YWCA only has something like nescafe, something so disgusting I gag thinking about it. So after breakfast, I started looking for a Barista, the Indian Starbucks. Directions held tight in my shaking hands, (from the lack of coffee. of course) I started off. Ten feet down the road the first scooter driver stops and asks if I want a ride, but this is supposed to be my morning walk, so No! Ten more feet and another guy offers me the Taj Mahal just to get into his scooter, but I held fast. Stopping to ask for directions, I'm told that the first directions were false and the barista is right around the corner. Well, around the corner means five New York blocks, and please take my scooter for 40 cents. So I gave in and off we went. The coffee was good. I felt like a new person and my hands stopped shaking, and my headache went away.
I went to find a South Indian Restaurant to get some food for my friend, Mohini. She loves South Indian food, and though I do enjoy it occasionally I find its sameness boring over the long haul. But I got two idli plates and a Masala dosa, which were good. The idlis are made with rice and urad dal. The dal is skinned, because it is black and idlis are white. Here is a recipe: http://chefinyou.com/2009/01/idli-recipe/ .The sambar, a soup like mixture, is very hot, and though I like hot food, there is something about the texture or the heaviness that disagrees with me. I think if I were to make it, and, don't hold your breath, I would change the sambar so it would be light. http://www.south-indian-recipes.com/sambarrecipe.html . I have probably insulted a number of South Indian Gods, but I have to be truthful. You can also eat the idlis with chutney, which I do like.
One thing I do love are the dosas. I love the Masala Dosa, a crispy shell of rice and urad dal filled with peas, potatoes and other vegetables. Unfortunately it is not easy to make. http://www.indianfoodforever.com/snacks/masala-dosa.html . I have never had a good dosa in the U.S.
I went to find a South Indian Restaurant to get some food for my friend, Mohini. She loves South Indian food, and though I do enjoy it occasionally I find its sameness boring over the long haul. But I got two idli plates and a Masala dosa, which were good. The idlis are made with rice and urad dal. The dal is skinned, because it is black and idlis are white. Here is a recipe: http://chefinyou.com/2009/01/idli-recipe/ .The sambar, a soup like mixture, is very hot, and though I like hot food, there is something about the texture or the heaviness that disagrees with me. I think if I were to make it, and, don't hold your breath, I would change the sambar so it would be light. http://www.south-indian-recipes.com/sambarrecipe.html . I have probably insulted a number of South Indian Gods, but I have to be truthful. You can also eat the idlis with chutney, which I do like.
One thing I do love are the dosas. I love the Masala Dosa, a crispy shell of rice and urad dal filled with peas, potatoes and other vegetables. Unfortunately it is not easy to make. http://www.indianfoodforever.com/snacks/masala-dosa.html . I have never had a good dosa in the U.S.
31 October, 2010
The YWCA
I am staying at the YWCA, Blue Triangle. The rooms are very basic, but meticulously clean, so I can't complain. Breakfast is included and it is adequate: boiled eggs, toast, cereal and lots of milk tea or coffee. There is a TV in each room with HBO. What else can you ask for? I even have CNBC and Bloomberg TV.
The YWCA is on Ashok road, close to Jan Path, a very old shoppers' paradise. And Connaught is right around the corner. So though I hate shopping, it will be a very valuable place for my friends.
Shockingly Obama is coming to visit on November 6, Diwali, which is a religious holiday, as important to the Indians as Christmas is to the Christians. He gets some very odd advice from the people around him. Like bowing low to the emperor of Japan. As head of state, he should have nodded. Again bad advice from his advisers. And it made him look ridiculous at home.
I have seen my friend, Mohini, a 90 year old woman, who is going strong. She complains non stop but that is her way, and certainly will not change now. Her mind is strong and we can talk about everything. I miss staying with her, because it was a home away from home. And Mohini and her daughter, Rama, are family. We have known each other since the days we lived in India. Mohini was my Hindi teacher and friend as early as 1971, so it has been a great friendship for many years.
I took a scooter again after using only a taxi for many years. It's a good thing I don't fear death, or I would have died a hundred deaths in the half hour it took to arrive at Greater Kailash. He wove in an out of traffic like a snake on the run, barely missing cars and bicycles as he went. People were beeping their horns, but not only at him, just generally. I guess the sound makes them happy.
My good friend KB, whom I rewarded with falsely calling him Kishan instead of Kishor in my book about India, is as usual always there when I need him.
The YWCA is on Ashok road, close to Jan Path, a very old shoppers' paradise. And Connaught is right around the corner. So though I hate shopping, it will be a very valuable place for my friends.
Shockingly Obama is coming to visit on November 6, Diwali, which is a religious holiday, as important to the Indians as Christmas is to the Christians. He gets some very odd advice from the people around him. Like bowing low to the emperor of Japan. As head of state, he should have nodded. Again bad advice from his advisers. And it made him look ridiculous at home.
I have seen my friend, Mohini, a 90 year old woman, who is going strong. She complains non stop but that is her way, and certainly will not change now. Her mind is strong and we can talk about everything. I miss staying with her, because it was a home away from home. And Mohini and her daughter, Rama, are family. We have known each other since the days we lived in India. Mohini was my Hindi teacher and friend as early as 1971, so it has been a great friendship for many years.
I took a scooter again after using only a taxi for many years. It's a good thing I don't fear death, or I would have died a hundred deaths in the half hour it took to arrive at Greater Kailash. He wove in an out of traffic like a snake on the run, barely missing cars and bicycles as he went. People were beeping their horns, but not only at him, just generally. I guess the sound makes them happy.
My good friend KB, whom I rewarded with falsely calling him Kishan instead of Kishor in my book about India, is as usual always there when I need him.
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