tumi bangla bohlo?

It was pouring rain as I desperately looked for some sort of ride home. All of the autos were full and none of the taxis wanted to take me to Kasba because of the horrible construction going on in the area. Finally, one taxi driver agreed to take me, first informing me that his meter was "broken." Still, I grabbed the chance and hopped in. As we pulled away from the curb, he asked me, "tumi bangla bohlo?" ("do you speak Bengali?") And that's when the fun began.

"Well, a little," I said, holding two fingers up to indicate a small amount. I proceeded to rattle off my token Bengali phrases which include: "good morning," "you are looking nice today," "left, right, straight," "I am naughty" (I'm told often at the office that I am naughty), "do not stare at me," "I am tired," "let us go quickly," and "I do not like mosquitos." The last one always gets a laugh out of Bengalis. This taxi driver spoke excellent English and I think he wanted to see my Bengali reach a similar level. Sadly, this wasn't going to happen in a 30-minute taxi drive, but what to do.

At one point, we were stopped on a bridge and waiting for the ridiculous amount of traffic to pass. A man in a "wheelchair" (actually, a large tricycle moved by cranking the pedals around by hand) pulled up next to our taxi and waited alongside us. He overheard our conversation and asked the taxi driver if I spoke Bangla. I quickly shared my limited knowledge with him and we all laughed as we waited for the light to turn. He too joined in on the lesson.

Language lessons turned to cooking lessons during the last leg of my journey with the cab driver. I learned (and recorded) how to make aloo-something-something (an excellent dish of mashed potatos, onion, chilis, and mustard oil) and stepped out of the cab with an overwhelming sense of happiness and a good recipe to try out. It's moments like these that remind me how wonderful the people here truly are. The small hardships that we encounter are ultimately overshadowed by such pleasant memories, including that of a taxi driver and a polio victim teaching me Bangla on the top of Ballygunge Bridge.

it takes two to mango.

Mango season is in full swing here in Kolkata. However, purchasing mangoes can be difficult for a girl like myself who is unaccustomed to the wide variety of available options. In an effort to educate ourselves about this country's plethora of Mangifera indica, Emily and I held our first annual Mango Fandango taste-testing extravaganza. We tasted seven different mangoes and recorded our findings. As you will see, we have very distinguished palates and have qualified ourselves as "mango-mmeliers" (the mango version of a sommelier). Please find our results below (highlights in orange)

Alphonso mango:
Exterior appearance: Average sunny yellow, excellent disguise for the punch inside
Interior appearance: Firm, full-bodied, strong marigold
Flavor: Sweet with an underlying tang, bold and wild flavor, element of the tropical, acidic, retrospectively laser-like, like a fiesta in your mouth
Aroma: Frooti (a brand of mango juice here), delicate coconut overtones
Texture: Smooth, slides down throat in a nice manner, pleasant and non-fibrous texture
Strength: 7
Ease of preparation: Great ease, facilitated solid chunking
Yield: High
Overall: 8

Bangenpali mango:
Exterior appearance: Some interesting curves, but again leaves the viewer disappointed
Interior appearance: Lighest of the group, closest to lemon yellow, simple coloring
Flavor: Mild bouquet, pleasant but lacking in character
Aroma: A bit dull, woody, mildly citrusy
Texture: On the slimy side, unpleasantly runny at the bottom of the bowl
Strength: 1
Ease of preparation: Average
Yield: Average
Overall: 6

Bombai mango:
Exterior appearance: Unfortunate moles marring it's appearance, small and hemoglobular
Interior appearance: Inconsistent coloring, ranging from bold orange to puke yellow. Slightly green-brownish. Not attractive.
Flavor: Pungent in its own right, foresty, musky, does have an element of surprise, reminicent of West African heritage
Aroma: Tinge of canned cat food. Woody, fishy, and generally weak.
Texture: Lacking in structure
Strength: 3
Ease of preparation: Low
Yield: Low
Overall: 3.5

Golapkhas mango:
Exterior appearance: Most pleasing appearance, with blush coloring. Appealing two-tonal skin.
Interior appearance: Racy, Lambroghini yellow.
Flavor: Multi-dimension, more floral than woody, tastes as a mango should.
Aroma: Familiar, subtle orange frangrance
Texture: Rich and velvety, firm yet smooth. Mild traction, in that my tongue doesn't want to let it go.
Strength: 5
Ease of preparation: Average
Yield: Average
Overall: 9

Himsagar mango:
Exterior appearance: Greenish-brown, the ugly duckling of the crew, an indicator of what was in store.
Interior appearance: Limp, non-traditional, eclectic, easily browned, papayesque
Flavor: Strong, aged flavor - like the storage room of a hardware store, unkindly filmy aftertaste
Aroma: Root-like, wafts of pumpkin
Texture: Unctuous, algaeic, just plain slimy
Strength: 4
Ease of preparation: Difficult
Yield: Average to high
Overall: 3

Langda mango:
Exterior appearance: Bright green. Beauty betraying the sicky sweet flavor. Leafy in color.
Interior appearance: Appears very fibrous, consistent in color.
Flavor: Syrupy, herbal melange, balanced depth,
Aroma: Over-ripe, fructally generous
Texture: Flossy (would worry about having strings in your teeth on a date), light on water yield, slightly too much mush factor
Strength: 6
Ease of preparation: Average
Yield: Low to average
Overall: 5

Madrasi mango:
Exterior appearance: Orange, with a pleasant looking navel. Small.
Interior appearance: Pejorative translucency, maybe be off-putting, burgandy undertones
Flavor: Nectar-infused, flat and shallow, palate is left disappointed after promising aroma
Aroma: Seductive, Suggestive of steamy nights on the beach, Sharp
Texture: Limp on the fork, gelatinous in nature.
Strength: 2
Ease of preparation: Difficult
Yield: Low
Overall: 4.5

Top 5 Reasons to Embrace the Heat

Seeing as it is excessively hot here, I propose the following reasons as to why heat is actually a good thing...
5. Your laundry dries remarkably fast.
4. You don't have to wait for the water heater to warm up because you just want to stand under a stream of cold water. Unfortunately, since the water sits in hot pipes all day long, it is often quite warm.
3. If you're into bikram yoga or pilates ("hot" yoga/pilates), you don't need to go to a special studio to get a work out. Just turn the fans off, pop in the DVD, and voila... instant sweat. On second thought, you could probably just practice "bikram" by itself; just sitting still in our living room can cause your body to produce massive amounts of perspiration.
2. (from my ingenious roommate) The chocolate chips in your baked goods always stay gooey because it's 5,000 degrees outside. Everything tastes like it just came out of the oven.
AND... the number one reason why we should embrace the heat...
1. Monday suddenly becomes EXTREMELY appealing. After a weekend spent in a virtual sauna, you cannot wait to return to your cool (chilly, even), air-conditioned office. I literally pop out of bed on Mondays and think "YES!" We dread Fridays, however, as the end of the week signals 48+ hours of perspiration and minimal A/C. I really do enjoy my job as it is, but with the added bonus of air conditioning, work just became my new favorite hobby.

Top 5 Phrases In India

5. Which country, madam?: I get this one a lot. Not "where are you from?" but "which country, madam?" "Which country what?" is what I want to say sometimes. Which country am I from? Which country am I currently in? Which country do I wish were in (see answer to Question 1)? Which country has the oldest flag (it's Denmark, FYI)? I'm tempted to ask the inquirer "which country do you think I'm from?" but then figure it's not worth it. I respond with a quick "United States" and if they ask "which state, madam?", I give them "South Carolina... it's near Florida... don't worry about it."
4. Tika chay/acha (spelling is approximate): no explanation necessary. [head nod]
3. You will take this/you will like this, madam: People here seem pretty sure about what I will and will not like. If I go to a restaurant with a sandwich counter, there really is no need to even look at the options. The young man behind the counter will invariably tell me which one I will like the best (which is the one I will also "take"). It's good to know people are in tune with my likes and dislikes.
2. Are we serious?: One of my personal favorites, this one comes straight from my roommate. In situations of ridiculousness (which crop up daily), her response is often "are we serious?" Example: two very large men are nestled in the back of an autorickshaw. The two of us walk up to the driver, see that there is no room for one in the back, and start to walk away. The driver grabs us and points for one of us to sit in the front with him and for the other to sit in the back. My roommate, as she glances incredulously towards the backseat, "are we serious?"
AND... the number one phrase...
1. Why not?!: Ahh, "why not." This has quickly become the best catch-all phrase a girl could ask for. Ask me anything and I will satisfy your inquiry with a hearty "why not?" The best part comes when you stop and think about exactly "why not." Example: I need to put my glass in the sink, but someone else is washing their vegetables and there isn't room to squeeze past.
Me: Sneha, can I put my glass in the sink really quickly?
Sneha: Why not?
"Well," I think, "I guess there really isn't a reason why you shouldn't move. Why not, indeed."
Gotta love it.

holi moley.

Yesterday, West Bengal celebrated Holi. There are various legends behind this holiday and both Muslims and Hindus engage in the festivities. This "Festival of Colors" signals the coming of spring and is basically a good excuse for everyone (including adults) to get messy. Several of my friends and I had the opportunity to "play Holi" with a huge group of locals. It was, by far, the most fun I've had in a long time!

"Playing Holi" involves the throwing, smearing, rubbing, etc. of colored powder. There is also the possibility of adding lots of water to the powder and throwing buckets of colored water on people... awesome. Virtually no one is safe: kids use water gun-esque toys to squirt cars and motorcycles as they pass and people throw dyed water or powder from their rooftops unsuspecting pedestrians. It was an absolute blast.

jai ho!

Going to the movies is always a “different” experience outside of the U.S.: in France they sell sugar-popcorn and have ice cream vending machines in the back hallways; in Slovenia, you are strictly assigned seats, etc. India, however, plays in a whole new ballpark, so to speak. To date, I have seen three films here: Slumdog Millionaire, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and Pink Panther 2.

The concessions stands crack me up. Not only do you have three different types of popcorn to choose from, you also have veg samosas and scooped ice cream. But the best is the hot corn. Not popcorn—hot corn. Just near the popcorn stand is a booth where an eager Indian man will shave the kernels off of a hot, buttery ear of corn, put them into a Dixie cup, and hand you a small wooden spoon for your tasting pleasure. I have not yet had the pleasure to experience this delicious treat, but I hear it’s wonderful.

For Slumdog Millionaire, we accidentally bought “gold tickets,” which put us in the very elite Gold Seating. We waited in a special lobby before being led to the cinema. The cinema had about 40 leather recliners, with a pillow and a blanket settled on the seat of each one. After we had nestled ourselves in the plush chairs and fully “reclined” ourselves, the movie began. I had seen Slumdog in Atlanta, but seeing it in India was pretty powerful. Granted, the volume was so loud that I lost most of my hearing, but at least I can say I watched saw it in India (and have 10% of my hearing to account for it).

We had “regular” tickets for the second and third movies I saw here. The stadium seating is quite similar to that found in the U.S., but don’t get too comfortable as the lights dim. You’ll be expected to pop right back up for the singing of the Indian national anthem. This rousing rendition of "Jana Gana Mana" includes various Indians, young and old, singing the anthem. The words scroll across the bottom for the foreigners. But they're in Sanksrit, so...

The best part: you get a good hour or so to catch your breath from all this activity before the ten minute intermission begins.

holy cow (literally).

Dear friends and family,

Nomoshkar from South Asia! I write to you on this Sunday night after a great weekend of exploring the city with friends, attending a new church, and resting up for the week ahead. I thought the two-week mark might be a good time to share with you a little bit about what I have been up to and how the adjustment period has been going since I arrived. And yes, I realize this is super long… please feel free to just check out the pictures.

I spent my first week acclimating to the “hullabaloo” of Kolkata: learning about my new position, meeting the staff, finding my way to the office and around the city, and trying to adjust my sleep schedule. I absolutely adore my roommate, Emily. She arrived in early October and also works in the administrative department. Emily grew up in Vermont and majored in literature—very useful for crossword puzzles—and we have a similar sense of humor. I don’t think I could have asked for a better friend to help show me the ropes. She is also highly skilled in mosquito-killing, which comes in quite handy. We have been having wonderful conversations about anything and everything—Indian cultural oddities, life back in the States, work, boys, family, and more.

A typical day consists of breakfast (cereal, fruit, or toast) and getting ready for work. I typically wear scrubs for pants and a kurta (or tunic, for all intensive purposes) to the office. I wander out of Neelachal, my co-op at about 8:15, (carefully) cross the road, and flag down an autorickshaw (or simply “auto”). Now, I will try to keep this section condensed, but as I find autos and the “auto cultural” quite fascinating, it may be hard. Feel free to skip ahead if you aren’t interested in public transportation systems. Autos are small, three-wheeled vehicles that have engines similar to that of a 4-wheeler (if I had to take a guess). They generally have tarps as covers and can fit three people on the back bench and two, sometimes three, people in the front. I have, however, seen as many as eight people in an auto. In all other parts of South Asia, autos are virtually mini cabs. Here, however, they run similar to a bus system, with one group running from point A to point B, another group running from point B to point C, etc. You can get on and off the auto at any point and thus far, I have found myself riding with several interesting characters. I think I almost gave one elderly man a heart attack when he climbed inside and found himself seated next to a white girl. Anyway, each morning I take one auto to one major dropoff point and then flag down another to get close to the office. A quick walk (instructions include “take a right at the coconut man”) brings me to the office and my day begins. The entire trip takes about 15 to 20 minutes.

We work until six and then Emily and I either do a little grocery shopping or head home. So far, dinner has been very low maintenance: omelets, PB&J sandwiches, stir-fry vegetables, etc. Emily did manage to make a frittata in the toaster oven, which I found extremely impressive. Because people tend to “raise their eyebrows” at women who come home late at night (particularly by themselves), our nocturnal activities are somewhat limited. We have gone over to other expats’ flats several times for dinners and movie nights, but the majority of the nights I’ve been here have been spent cooking, talking, watching “The Office,” reading, knitting, and doing crossword puzzles… thrilling! It actually works out quite well, however, because I have found myself to be rather exhausted at the end of the day. Experiencing sensory overload for the majority of the day can begin to wear you out. The two weekends I have spent here have been used for exploring the city, resting, going to church, and running errands.

I haven’t found myself missing any “things” from the United States, but rather people… all of you guys! Although it can be frustrating to not be able to pick up the phone and call someone whenever I want, the 10.5 hour difference hasn’t really been all that bad. Our apartment complex is very quiet and is a wonderful place to “escape” from the noise that seems almost constantly “on.” Another great think about this city is the sense of security… I have yet to feel like I am in danger. Of course, much of this could be attributed to the fact that I am taller than the entire population of this country and strike fear and awe into the hearts of potentially dodgy characters. It has taken some time to adjust to the amount of staring that goes on; when you combine 1) a six-foot tall woman, 2) who is white, 3) not in the tourist part of town, 4) and by herself, the general reaction is curiosity.

Today marks the end of the holiday Sarswati Puja, which celebrates the Hindu goddess of knowledge. Although it has been relatively quiet this weekend, the neighbors and people in the surrounding area are certainly celebrating tonight: singers and chanters, armed with drums, have taken to the pathways around our complex. More endearingly, a young gecko has taken up residence in the cracks of our sliding door and makes the most charming little squeaks you’ll ever hear. Combine those noises with the “Audubon Birds of North America” wall clock that chimes on the hour in assorted bird calls, and you have an idea of my current “soundtrack.” That’s about it for now… more to come soon. And I promise to keep the next update much shorter!