Morning at the Golden Temple, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

In 2006,  my sister, students, and I spent quite a bit of time at Gurudwaras. We were given meals at the langars, welcomed into the home of a family who helped perfect stranger navigate the Indian train system. We were also brought under the protection of uncles who wouldn't tolerate a man harassing two young women.  The Sikh community welcomed us into their community. My thoughts are with the Sikh Community in Wisconsin.

The Chaiwalli

A man unloads a bicycle rickshaw stacked with homemade paper. As he moves the paper into one of the many stationary shops, a bead of sweat drips from his chin. Skillfully he weaves through the stream of people on the sidewalk. My companions and I stay close together as we pass by, trying to enjoy the bustle of Chawri Bazaar, which stands in the shadow of Old Delhi’s Jama Masjid.

I disrupt the flow of people when I stop. Squatting on the side of the road is a woman in a well-worn sari. Her skin is tanned and her face slightly lined with age. She has full cheeks and dark brown eyes. The pullao of her sari loosely covers the top of her head. In front of her sit a burner, a pot, and teacups. I have never seen a chaiwalli—a female chai vendor.

“Does anyone want chai?” I ask.

The chaiwalli’s eyebrows knit together as I, an Anglezi, approach her. “Namskar didi-ji. May we please have four cups of chai?” I ask her in Hindi. A smile breaks across her face and her eyes gleam.

She ignites the burner, and places the pot, rimmed brown from use, over it. Absent-mindedly she adds several ingredients to the pot while talking to a young boy. Once boiled and strained, she hands each of us a tapered glass full of the milky brown substance.

At the first taste of the steaming contents of my glass, I savor the flavors of cardamom, ginger, and cinnamon. In that moment, I want to get to know this woman who lives a life so different from mine, who speaks no English, but who, on the side of a busy street, can make a cup of chai that will make me crave it when I am not in Delhi and have me returning frequently when I am.

On Christmas Day, I visit the chai stand for the fourth time in as many days. Sonya, the chaiwalli, is pleased to see me, but her expression is puzzled. “Akali?”

“Yes, I am alone. My friends have gone back to America.”

“Where are you staying? Do you have food?” She asked me, with the same concern she would ask one of her daughters. I reassure her that I am staying in a safe hotel, and that I have food. Satisfied, she starts to make some chai. She slows down, so that I can learn how to make chai the way she does. The constant flow of people passing by is interrupted as people stop to see why an Anglezi and a chaiwalli are on familiar terms. We pay them no attention.

After numerous cups of chai over many months, I am sad that this is my last visit before heading home. I reach down to touch Sonya’s feet, a gesture of profound respect. She grasps my shoulders and pulls me up. Her expression matches the way I feel. With one final hug, she sighs and says “my daughter.”

Sonya Didi and Me, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

Events in this post took place between Aug 2006 and January 2007

Tourist in Your Own City- MFA Chihuly

Back in April, I started to see buses and billboards advertise a Chihuly Exhibit at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (MFA). I was excited about seeing the exhibit, as I had seen Chihuly another time at the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix, AZ. I didn’t want this to be one of those times that I simply forgot to do something because I live in the area and I can always do it tomorrow, so I made it a point to get to the MFA. Ironically, the friend who took me to see the exhibit in Arizona happened to be in town for business. She another friend, and I made our way to the MFA one Wednesday afternoon.

When we got to the museum, there was a line out the door. On Wednesdays, after 4 PM the entry into the museum is by donation, so many take advantage of getting into the museum for a discount. Despite the discount, it was nice to imagine that so many people are interested in art.

We made our way through the crowd and to the Chihuly exhibit. The first thing that struck me was the use of light. In Arizona, the exhibit was in an outside setting. The glass sculptures were therefore at the mercy of whatever the light conditions of the particular time and day you visited. Here, at the MFA, every person was seeing the pieces a specific way, in lighting that someone had chosen. Of course, most of the displays were visually stunning. The boat with the use of a shinny black surface made for a crisp and clear display and I was transfixed by it and if there wasn’t such a large crowd pushing me onward, I could have stayed looking at that particular display for a long while.

Something I don’t remember seeing in Arizona were smaller pieces, like vases. The MFA included more stand-alone pieces, which I enjoyed for the functional aspect. I could relate to the shapes and pieces and visualize putting them in my living space (not that I could afford it.)

The highlight of the show was the room in which the ceiling was made from different glass pieces. The reflections that came through were mesmorizing and people’s reactions were fun to watch—a small boy seeing the red and blues reflected on his mother’s face generated an ear-to-ear smile and several women stood in awe as another friend took a photo of them under the light coming through the ceiling. It isn’t very often that you get to see and use light like that.
The downsides to seeing this exhibit, was the sheer number of people. I went back a second time and encountered the same crowds. All-in-all, though, it is worth seeing if you can put up with a few people. The exhibit ends on August 7th.

It is probably best to let some photos tell the story. Here are the highlights:

The Boat Reflected, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

The Big Display, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

A Vessel, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

Photos Under Different Colors, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

Friends Pose, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

To see more photos of both the Chihuly exhibit at the MFA and the Desert Botantical Garden visit this set on flickr.

Events in this post took place in July of 2011

The Durian Quest

One of the biggest things that happens when you travel is that you are exposed to new foods. If you are anything like me, after experiencing some of these delicious dishes, drinks, or fruits, you want to make them apart of your diet. You crave them, and search for the proper ingredients until you are able to replicate the food you seek. The most recent thing to haunt my taste buds is the Cambodian fruit smoothie, specifically the street vendor mixed fruit— tuk krolok. I have always enjoyed a good fruit smoothie, but I never sought them out. Shortly, after I returned, I was in Trader Joes, and they had a package of pre-cut mixed tropical fruits. I eagerly purchased it, rushed home, and placed fresh mango, pineapple, and papaya into the blender. I hoped to have the same experience I had on the side of the road in Cambodia. But it did not happen—something was missing. Thus started my search for durian in the Boston area.

Regular supermarkets did not have it. I made plans with my friend to go to a Korean store the next time she and her family went. Unfortunately, our schedules have both been busy and we haven’t been able to go. Work kept me from checking out Chinatown. By the time I left work, I was too tired to trek into Chinatown to find some durian.

And then, a friend and I traveled to Revere Beach on what was probably the hottest day in Boston so far this summer. Many other Bostonians had the same idea, and parking was hard to come by. I had just about given up on the prospect of parking, when I some how ended up on a street with a bunch of Cambodian stores with names like Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom, and beside these stores was an empty parking lot! I went into the store, found a container of frozen durian (packaged in a hard plastic container, shrink wrapped, and I later discovered that each piece of durian is wrapped in cellophane as well)! I went on to purchase a papaya and several mangoes ready to make myself tuk krolok when I got home!

Tropical Fruit Smoothie, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

I prepared the fruit, added condensed milk and several ice cubes to the blender and waited for the mixture to turn the perfect shade of orange. I poured myself a glass and was transported back to my recent trip to Cambodia:

IMG_2503, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

“Have you ever had durian?” Wolverette asked me as we rode our bicycles past several fruit sellers with mounds of a brown spikey fruit I had never seen before.

“Only in a restaurant in Boston. It was a durian shake.” I replied.

“And did you like it?!” She asked excitedly and I tried to bring back the memory of the fruit from my encounter years ago when a friend let me try his durian shake.

“I did not dislike it. It was a strong taste, but I don’t know, it was fine.

Wolverette launched into a story of how she bought one when her friends from Wyoming had come to visit her in Siem Reap. “You should have seen their faces as we cut it open! They were wincing; it has a really pungent smell. I am not so sure they liked the flavor, but it was a good experience! You have to try fresh durian before you leave.”

“Okay!” I said thinking I might as well add it to the list of new fruits—mangosteens, rambutan, longan—I’ve tried since I came to visit my sister in Cambodia.

“We’ll take one with us to France’s tonight,” she said decidedly.

We did take a durian to France’s house that night, but we never cracked it open and tried the fruit, because we had stuffed ourselves on delicious French food and left no room for the fruit. We left it at France’s house, deciding it would be inappropriate to bring the fruit back to a guesthouse, where other guests might not be so keen on the smell.

Despite the fact that my first attempt to try a piece of fresh durian failed, by the end of my visit, I had an occasion to try the famous Cambodian street-side smoothie: tuk krolok.

Tuk krolok vendors are identifiable by the display of fresh fruit, an electric blender, condensed milk, and an ice grinder. The ice grinder is a hand-cranked wheeled instrument that shaves ice from a large block of ice that is kept in a near by cooler. After placing your order, the vendor grabs whatever fruit is available, which usually includes papaya, mango, and durian. Sometimes it might include other fruits as well. All of the fruit is chopped and thrown into the blender, along with a heaping amount of condensed milk and freshly ground ice. A few minutes later, the contents of the blender are poured into cups, if you are taking the drink with you, it might then be placed into a plastic bag filled with ice shavings to ensure that it remains cold until you can enjoy it.

In the remote village of Chiphat, electricity is turned on for only a few hours in the night. During our visit, one evening, Wolverette really wanted a fruit smoothie, so we wandered down the street, and came across a little shop with a blender. We took our seats and the little girl who was behind the counter called her parents to come out for what I suspect was the first order of the night. The thin Cambodian woman grabbed some fruit, started to chop it into small piece and threw it into the blender as her husband grabbed the large block of ice and created a mound of snow. The woman grabbed some of the ice shavings put them in the blender and then divided the mixture into several cups and handed one to Wolverette. The woman packed the remaining cups in ice and handed them over to some kids who had arrived on bikes. After handing her their money, they pedaled away with the drinks. More customers arrived, and she set to work making another batch. We suspected, she was probably the only woman in this village who owned a blender.

After a hot day of traveling and shopping at the Russian Market in Phnom Penh, we stumbled across a sweets vendor. They had an exquisite array of sweets, and a blender and fruit. This was actually the first place I tried tuk krolok. We ordered two glasses along with a few sweets made from lotus seeds and noodles. The light-orange fruit drink was handed to me and as I took my first sip, Wolverette watched to see if my face would show any signs of dislike. However, after a sip, I thought it was good—refreshing even. There was a strong flavor, that I recognized as durian, but it blended so well with the papaya and banana that was in the drink. I knew instantly, that this would be one of those things I would crave once I left Cambodia.

tuk krolok, a photo by rmaple_leaf on Flickr.

all events in this post took place between Jun 1, Jun 5, and July 17, 2011

In Transit

My quick thoughts about traveling half-way around the world, it takes a long time. I am currently in Singapore, after a long flight from Frankfurt, and JFK before that. Not to mention the 5 hour bus ride from Boston to New York, the half hour visit with KRSNA and an hour shuttle ride from the Port Authority to JFK! Needless-to-say, I am tired. On the plane, seat 46E and I had a long time to get aquainted, and I have no clue as to what time it is! Well, in Singapore it is about 7 AM. One more flight to go and my sister and I will be in Cambodia together!