Some people don't get the reference from the last post, so here's the clip from X-Men 3:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8Z5iL3358Q
The Juggernaut was also parodied in this long 9-minute video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSuvOVH0aSQ
I actually don't think this video is funny (I couldn't even finish the first two minutes), but I know some people find it hilarious.
I'm fairly certain it's the latter video that popularized the phrase "I'm the Juggernaut, bitch!" Seriously, do you guys not remember when EVERYONE was endlessly repeating this?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
He's the Juggernaut, bitch! (Orissa, Part I)
This past weekend, I went to Orissa. We had off of work on Tuesday for Republic Day, which is the anniversary of the adoption of the Constitution of India, so I took casual leave on Monday to create a 4-day weekend. Orissa was incredible, despite a few frustrating moments.
Now you know where Orissa is.
entrance to Jagannath Temple
view through the entrance (thank you camera zoom!)
Now you know where Orissa is.We boarded our plane as if it was on time. But it wasn’t--we sat on the tarmac for three hours, waiting for the fog to lift. I don’t understand why they boarded the plane in the first place; it’s not like they didn’t know it was foggy! Obviously they should have boarded only when the visibility was far enough to take off, because it is much more comfortable to be waiting in an airport than on an airplane. But alas, this is India, and as Gandhi says, this is “a country of nonsense.”
When my plane finally arrived in Orissa, my first impression was positive: it’s warm and I can breathe and see blue sky!!
On the bus from Bhubaneswar, the capital of Orissa, to Puri, a beachside town, I sat down next to a middle-aged man and his shy 6-year-old son who tried to hide his face from the scary white foreigner. Before I could slip on my headphones (all that waiting on the tarmac had exhausted me and I wasn’t in the mood to talk), the man started talking to me. He spoke in broken English, and I responded in broken Hindi. So languages were being butchered all around. The man and his son were extremely friendly, in a non-sketchy way, and they invited me to stay in their home in their village. The man, who is the principal of his village’s school, said that his wife would cook traditional Oriya food and his students would give me a tour of “a real Oriya village” (whatever that means). And he wasn’t just saying this—he wouldn’t let me get off the bus without giving me his phone number first, in case I ever venture near his village! This man’s hospitality is a perfect example of why I fell in love with India in the first place. A visit to his village would have been awesome, but unfortunately the village was kind of far, and as you’ll read in a later blog post, there was a bandh* threat.
*If you don’t know what a bandh is by now, you have not been reading my blog and/or have never heard my “escape from Sikkim” story. In any case, here is a definition, one last time: a bandh is a “general strike.” Everything—and I mean EVERYTHING, from shops to restaurants to roads—is closed.
When I arrived in Puri, I went straight to the beach. I hadn’t seen a major body of water since July, so I was in desperate need of breathing in the salty sea breeze and staring off to the horizon. After satisfying these needs, I headed to Jagannath Temple in town.
Bay of Bengal
On my way to the temple, I passed by a wedding procession, and I saw something I've never seen before: a cycle-train of men playing instruments in cages. It very much reminded me of a traveling circus.
cycle-train of musicians in a wedding procession
caged man playing a drum
caged man playing a keyboard
Jagannath Temple, built in the 11th century, is a Hindu pilgrimage site and represents the east in the Char Dham (4 abodes of God, one in each direction). Lord Jagannath is “a part of Vishnu,” according to one Brahmin (priest). I asked if he meant one of Vishnu's many manifestations or forms, but he said no, "a part." But then when I looked up Jagannath online, I found that he is a form of Krishna, who himself is an avatar of Vishnu (at least according to Vaishnavism). So I don't really know who Jagannath is, other than Orissa's deity of choice. Also, he is often represented with huge eyes (at least in Orissa). Non-Hindus are not allowed inside Jagannath Temple, so I went to the roof of Raghunandan Library, across the street, to steal a view.
entrance to Jagannath Temple
view through the entrance (thank you camera zoom!)
mustachioed lions, this one crushing an elephant, protect the entrances of many temples in Orissa (this one is not Jagannath Temple but is nearby)
view of Jagannath Temple from the roof of Raghunandan Library
view of Puri's busy streets from Raghunandan Library
The English word “juggernaut” comes from Jagannath. I think the origins are a British misunderstanding of the Rath Yatra festival. During Rath Yatra, three humongous chariots carrying three deities (Jagannath and his siblings Balarama and Subhadra) are pushed through the streets of Puri. The British believed that these chariots crushed everything and everyone in their paths—they were unstoppable. And so the word “juggernaut” came to mean something that is unstoppable. I was sort of hoping someone would yell “He's the Juggernaut, bitch!” but given the probably nonexistent popularity of X-Men 3 in Puri outside of CT Road (where all the foreign backpackers hang out), that did not happen.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
New blog feature: Labels
Check out the Labels in the right-hand sidebar. Now you can look for past posts by category! Very exciting, I know.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Reminders of home ...sort of.
To state the obvious, India and the US are different in almost every way. But sometimes I am surprised at how much certain things remind me of home. Here's a partial list of these things:
1. Tiffin roti = shmurah matzah
At TERI, you can order a tiffin for lunch. This food is supposedly "home-cooked" and delivered to TERI in neat lunchboxes called tiffins. It's a pretty good deal, because it's a lot of food for only 35 rupees, or 75 American cents. A tiffin looks like this (image taken from Google Images, not my own):
Each section of the tiffin comes with a different food. TERI's tiffin service gives us four compartments. One has plain white rice, two have subzi (vegetables)--usually one rajma (kidney beans), daal (lentils), or chole (chickpeas) and one mix veg, aloo gobhi (potato and cauliflower), kofta (veg ball), or paneer--and one has a yogurty desert. My favorite subzi combination, of course, is daal and paneer. Yum!
The tiffin also comes with 4 small roti (flat round bread). These roti are less than yum, unfortunately. Today, I finally figured out what this particular roti tastes like: shmurah matzah. For those of you who don't know what shmurah matzah is, it's like super-duper-kosher circular matzah (bread that doesn't rise, looks like a big cracker) that tastes like crunchy burnt cardboard. Delicious? Well, this roti tastes like that, minus the crunchiness. (Note: usually roti is quite good. It is just this tiffin.)
2. Autorickshaws = Mario Kart
My brother Ben pointed this one out to me. We were riding in an auto from CP (Connaught Place) back to Jangpura, and he said, "Riding in an auto is like being inside a Mario Kart game. You try to get ahead of everyone else, dodge and weave in and out of other vehicles, and the background moves at about the same speed. I feel like I should throw a banana peel on the road!" (Don't worry, Mom, he didn't.)
3. Bollywood = Hollywood
You may think Bollywood should remind me more of Broadway due to the extended dance scenes. But I'm not really talking about the movies here, because I think they actually are quite different. Instead, I'm referring to the media's love for Bollywood "heros and heroines." The public is just as obsessed with celebrities here as at home, and the paparazzi is just as insane.
4. Auto pimps = actual pimps
Because both auto pimps and actual pimps control corners. See a previous post about Jangpura.
5. Cricket = Baseball
They both involve a bat, and they're both boring.
6. Will = Josh
I have been trying to figure out for months who Will reminds me of. Friday night I went to see a Bollywood movie with him, and it hit me: he's an Indian version of my cousin Josh! I can't put my finger on why; he's not a Cubs fan (in fact I would be shocked if he's seen even one baseball game--he doesn't even like India's baseball equivalent!), he doesn't want to be a doctor, he doesn't handle the cold well, etc. I think maybe he kind of looks like him. ...but Indian.
7. Diwali = Chanukah
Ok, not really, but both are called "Festival of Lights." That has to count for something.
I might add to this list as I think of more things that remind me of home. Or, more likely, I'll totally forget about it. To any fellow expats reading this, I would love to hear what random things remind you of home!
1. Tiffin roti = shmurah matzah
At TERI, you can order a tiffin for lunch. This food is supposedly "home-cooked" and delivered to TERI in neat lunchboxes called tiffins. It's a pretty good deal, because it's a lot of food for only 35 rupees, or 75 American cents. A tiffin looks like this (image taken from Google Images, not my own):
Each section of the tiffin comes with a different food. TERI's tiffin service gives us four compartments. One has plain white rice, two have subzi (vegetables)--usually one rajma (kidney beans), daal (lentils), or chole (chickpeas) and one mix veg, aloo gobhi (potato and cauliflower), kofta (veg ball), or paneer--and one has a yogurty desert. My favorite subzi combination, of course, is daal and paneer. Yum!
The tiffin also comes with 4 small roti (flat round bread). These roti are less than yum, unfortunately. Today, I finally figured out what this particular roti tastes like: shmurah matzah. For those of you who don't know what shmurah matzah is, it's like super-duper-kosher circular matzah (bread that doesn't rise, looks like a big cracker) that tastes like crunchy burnt cardboard. Delicious? Well, this roti tastes like that, minus the crunchiness. (Note: usually roti is quite good. It is just this tiffin.)
2. Autorickshaws = Mario Kart
My brother Ben pointed this one out to me. We were riding in an auto from CP (Connaught Place) back to Jangpura, and he said, "Riding in an auto is like being inside a Mario Kart game. You try to get ahead of everyone else, dodge and weave in and out of other vehicles, and the background moves at about the same speed. I feel like I should throw a banana peel on the road!" (Don't worry, Mom, he didn't.)
3. Bollywood = Hollywood
You may think Bollywood should remind me more of Broadway due to the extended dance scenes. But I'm not really talking about the movies here, because I think they actually are quite different. Instead, I'm referring to the media's love for Bollywood "heros and heroines." The public is just as obsessed with celebrities here as at home, and the paparazzi is just as insane.
4. Auto pimps = actual pimps
Because both auto pimps and actual pimps control corners. See a previous post about Jangpura.
5. Cricket = Baseball
They both involve a bat, and they're both boring.
6. Will = Josh
I have been trying to figure out for months who Will reminds me of. Friday night I went to see a Bollywood movie with him, and it hit me: he's an Indian version of my cousin Josh! I can't put my finger on why; he's not a Cubs fan (in fact I would be shocked if he's seen even one baseball game--he doesn't even like India's baseball equivalent!), he doesn't want to be a doctor, he doesn't handle the cold well, etc. I think maybe he kind of looks like him. ...but Indian.
7. Diwali = Chanukah
Ok, not really, but both are called "Festival of Lights." That has to count for something.
I might add to this list as I think of more things that remind me of home. Or, more likely, I'll totally forget about it. To any fellow expats reading this, I would love to hear what random things remind you of home!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Delhi *is* cold!
This article describes my current life perfectly:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/15/world/asia/15delhi.html
But you know what? Delhi is cold. Here's why:
Also, that article's description of the pollution is spot-on. All these street bonfires mix with exhaust fumes and the winter fog to create the most disgusting smog I have ever seen in my life. This makes LA's air look clean! Even my pollution mask is powerless against this smog. I literally cannot breathe. Sometimes I wonder how I'm still alive.
I'm planning to escape the cold and pollution by going to Orissa next weekend. I can't wait to relax on the beach! It's been way too long since I saw a large body of water.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/15/world/asia/15delhi.html
But you know what? Delhi is cold. Here's why:
- Buildings in Delhi are built to keep out heat and retain cold for the insanely hot summers (120 degrees--not looking forward to that at all!). Marble floors are not exactly ideal for cold weather. This means it is actually colder indoors, and during the day the cold from the previous night does not escape. It is 40 degrees inside my apartment at all times.
- There is no indoor central heating. Anywhere. I bought a measly space heater, but it doesn't help much. The heater doesn't even blow air. It just has two orange-red bars and kind of looks like the inside of a toaster oven. It's basically cooking the air immediately surrounding it. I have to sit directly in front of it to feel any heat. (This is why the outer plastic shell of my laptop monitor melted.)
Also, that article's description of the pollution is spot-on. All these street bonfires mix with exhaust fumes and the winter fog to create the most disgusting smog I have ever seen in my life. This makes LA's air look clean! Even my pollution mask is powerless against this smog. I literally cannot breathe. Sometimes I wonder how I'm still alive.
I'm planning to escape the cold and pollution by going to Orissa next weekend. I can't wait to relax on the beach! It's been way too long since I saw a large body of water.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Jangpura, Part II: Why I love living here
Jangpura is an awesome neighborhood. Here are a few reasons why I love living here:
Bhogal Market: You can get everything here, and for relatively cheap prices. It's smaller and easier to navigate than Lajpat Nagar Central Market, and it's a lot cheaper than Khan or Defence Colony. Also, Alice and Pooja live here! (Note about Pooja: she is a lawyer who works in an OFFICE located in Bhogal Market. Apparently a previous post made her sound like a street vendor or something.) (While I'm clarifying things, Alice and Pooja do not sleep under subzi (vegetable) carts on the streets of the market; there are apartment buildings in Bhogal.)
Tuesday night flea market: On Tuesday nights, Bhogal holds a flea market. The streets of Bhogal become incredibly crowded, and that makes the atmosphere really fun. I have bought several household items, Indian clothing, Hindi and Punjabi music, and Bollywood movies for super cheap. I may or may not go every Tuesday. May or may not.
Tuesday night flea market, viewed from Alice's terrace
Kadimi's: A chaat place in Bhogal Market that, without question, serves the best samosas in all of India. Even Pooja, an Indian, agrees with me on this one. Not only are their classic aloo (potato) samosas superb, they offer a variety of samosas that I have seen nowhere else: daal (lentils), paneer, mutter (peas), gobhi (cauliflower), and--get this--Chinese noodle samosas!! Kadimi's also has excellent paneer pakora. And I still haven't tried their kachori, but I intend to. This place is SO GOOD. I really cannot stop raving about this place. No trip to the Tuesday night flea market is complete with a stop at Kadimi's. If for some reason you're looking for me but can't find me, I'm probably at this place. Just ask Alice. She's found me there before.
(Yeah, I'm aware that the last two reasons are really part of Bhogal. I love Bhogal.)
Kadimi's
so good
preparing the best samosas in India
Parks: Jangpurans like to claim that our neighborhood is the greenest in Delhi. I don't really know if this is true, but it is true that we have a ton of parks. Even though I have yet to actually take advantage of any of these parks (before the weather was too hot, now the air is too polluted), it is nice to have trees everywhere.
Bhogal Market: You can get everything here, and for relatively cheap prices. It's smaller and easier to navigate than Lajpat Nagar Central Market, and it's a lot cheaper than Khan or Defence Colony. Also, Alice and Pooja live here! (Note about Pooja: she is a lawyer who works in an OFFICE located in Bhogal Market. Apparently a previous post made her sound like a street vendor or something.) (While I'm clarifying things, Alice and Pooja do not sleep under subzi (vegetable) carts on the streets of the market; there are apartment buildings in Bhogal.)
Tuesday night flea market: On Tuesday nights, Bhogal holds a flea market. The streets of Bhogal become incredibly crowded, and that makes the atmosphere really fun. I have bought several household items, Indian clothing, Hindi and Punjabi music, and Bollywood movies for super cheap. I may or may not go every Tuesday. May or may not.
Tuesday night flea market, viewed from Alice's terraceKadimi's: A chaat place in Bhogal Market that, without question, serves the best samosas in all of India. Even Pooja, an Indian, agrees with me on this one. Not only are their classic aloo (potato) samosas superb, they offer a variety of samosas that I have seen nowhere else: daal (lentils), paneer, mutter (peas), gobhi (cauliflower), and--get this--Chinese noodle samosas!! Kadimi's also has excellent paneer pakora. And I still haven't tried their kachori, but I intend to. This place is SO GOOD. I really cannot stop raving about this place. No trip to the Tuesday night flea market is complete with a stop at Kadimi's. If for some reason you're looking for me but can't find me, I'm probably at this place. Just ask Alice. She's found me there before.
(Yeah, I'm aware that the last two reasons are really part of Bhogal. I love Bhogal.)
Kadimi's
so good
preparing the best samosas in IndiaCelebrations: The other day there was a Sikh holiday, and since my neighborhood has a large Sikh population, there was a musical procession through the streets, stalls set up with free food for everyone, and fireworks being lit on the street and in the sky. During wedding season several weeks ago, I could see a fireworks show from my terrace literally every single night. I'm not even exaggerating.
celebration of some sort, viewed from my terrace
celebration of some sort, viewed from my terraceHistory of welcoming outsiders: See previous post about Jangpura's history.
The only downfalls:
The auto pimp: The autostand on Birbal Road is run by an auto pimp. Or at least pimp is the word I use to describe him. He's a humongous bearded, turban-clad, concealed-sword-wielding Punjabi who strikes fear into the hearts of the other autowallahs. They pay him to park their autos there; I've seen some autowallahs slip him rupees. Also, on several occasions he has intervened while I was in the middle of bargaining with an autowallah. Kris and Katrina, who used to live in Jangpura before moving to Dayanand Colony, said he even rode with them once. He made sure their autowallah gave him a portion of the money when they reached their destination. He particularly likes to pick on a fellow Sikh autowallah who is small and quiet (and who is coincidentally named Harvinder Singh, like my dad's partner in his oncology practice). All of this means that the autowallahs at the Birbal stand charge more than they should, because they have to give a cut of their earnings to the pimp for permission to wait there. Since I don't want to support the pimp's abuse (and since I want to pay more reasonable fares), I no longer use this autostand. Instead, I walk to the main road, about 6-8 minutes away, to catch an auto. (On a related note, I think a book on the Secret Lives of Autowallahs would be fascinating. Someone--an Indian male, obviously--should go undercover.)
Eros Cinema: This movie theater is currently under construction. When it finally opens, this multiplex is going to bring a ton of traffic to the neighborhood. Sure, it seems really convenient to have a movie theater literally a 4-minute walk from my home--until you realize that you're going to have a movie theater in your backyard. Luckily construction is super slow in India, so it probably won't open until I move out of Jangpura anyway!
The only downfalls:
The auto pimp: The autostand on Birbal Road is run by an auto pimp. Or at least pimp is the word I use to describe him. He's a humongous bearded, turban-clad, concealed-sword-wielding Punjabi who strikes fear into the hearts of the other autowallahs. They pay him to park their autos there; I've seen some autowallahs slip him rupees. Also, on several occasions he has intervened while I was in the middle of bargaining with an autowallah. Kris and Katrina, who used to live in Jangpura before moving to Dayanand Colony, said he even rode with them once. He made sure their autowallah gave him a portion of the money when they reached their destination. He particularly likes to pick on a fellow Sikh autowallah who is small and quiet (and who is coincidentally named Harvinder Singh, like my dad's partner in his oncology practice). All of this means that the autowallahs at the Birbal stand charge more than they should, because they have to give a cut of their earnings to the pimp for permission to wait there. Since I don't want to support the pimp's abuse (and since I want to pay more reasonable fares), I no longer use this autostand. Instead, I walk to the main road, about 6-8 minutes away, to catch an auto. (On a related note, I think a book on the Secret Lives of Autowallahs would be fascinating. Someone--an Indian male, obviously--should go undercover.)
Eros Cinema: This movie theater is currently under construction. When it finally opens, this multiplex is going to bring a ton of traffic to the neighborhood. Sure, it seems really convenient to have a movie theater literally a 4-minute walk from my home--until you realize that you're going to have a movie theater in your backyard. Luckily construction is super slow in India, so it probably won't open until I move out of Jangpura anyway!
Life in Delhi can be challenging, and I know I complain about it a lot. But at least I live in a neighborhood I love coming home to.
Creepy? Or awesome?
Today I was walking around Janpath, a market area near Connaught Place, with Ben and Joel. A random Indian man came up to me and asked, "do you live in Jangpura/Bhogal?"
At the time I felt creeped out so I ignored him and kept walking like I didn't hear him. But now I wonder how he knows me... maybe I bought something from him in Bhogal market, or maybe he's seen me walking around the neighborhood (and remembers me because my skin color makes me stand out). No idea. But, to use Joel's favorite phrase, "it could be awesome" that neighbors recognize me and some people know I'm a resident.
So it could go either way. Could be creepy, or could be awesome.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Apparently, you can train a tree. Or at least the Khasi can.
My brother Ben and his roommate Joel came to visit me (actually they are still in India but traveling without me), and last week we went to Meghalaya, Assam, Sikkim, and Calcutta. The highlight for me was hiking to living root bridges (yes, these bridges are alive!) in the Khasi Hills of Meghalaya.
Now you know where Meghalaya is.
The people in this region of Meghalaya belong to the Khasi tribe. The ancestors of the Khasi tribe, the war-Khasi, grew bridges; they trained the trees to cross the river! These bridges don't exist anywhere else in the world. I don't understand how the hell someone can train a tree, but check out these websites for more information:
http://rootbridges.blogspot.com/
http://www.cherrapunjee.com/index.php?mid=66&pid=66
To get to these bridges, we hiked through Khasi villages and forest. The hike was about 18 km roundtrip I think, and probably 8 of those kilometers were entirely stairs. We started at 9am and returned at 5pm. So it was quite exhausting, but worth it! The villages, scenery, and bridges were all spectacular. The amazingness can only be expressed in pictures:
view of the Khasi Hills and an escarpment at the beginning of the hike
entering Tyrna village
the trail officially starts behind this church
Ben and Joel enjoy descending several kilometers of stairs
did I mention the stairs?! definitely did some damage to our knees. and yeah, we'll have to ascend those later.
Humongous boulders in the river (which I assume is full during the monsoon)
Ben and Joel couldn't resist taking a break from the hiking to go bouldering
our first root bridge!
at over 100 ft, this is the longest bridge
Ben crosses the bridge. I think it's awesome that the war-Khasis trained the trees to make handrails!
another root bridge
root bridges in series
look at the color of the water. awesome.
mini waterfall and a shadow of the steel rope bridge
The steel rope bridges were less sturdy than the living root bridges.
crazy scenery
the end of the hike (halfway point? we had to walk the entire trail back) was the incredible double decker bridge
Khasi villagers on the lower deck
the upper deck
crossing the upper deck
both decks
Khasi girl crossing the lower deck
we ate lunch on a giant boulder in the middle of the river by the double decker bridge
on our way back, Joel and Ben conquer a big boulder in Nongriat village
I don't understand how this rock is balancing.
in a Khasi village
Ben climbing back up way too many stairs
our hike ended with a nice sunset over the hills. Bangladesh is on the other side of that hill.
Now you know where Meghalaya is.The people in this region of Meghalaya belong to the Khasi tribe. The ancestors of the Khasi tribe, the war-Khasi, grew bridges; they trained the trees to cross the river! These bridges don't exist anywhere else in the world. I don't understand how the hell someone can train a tree, but check out these websites for more information:
http://rootbridges.blogspot.com/
http://www.cherrapunjee.com/index.php?mid=66&pid=66
To get to these bridges, we hiked through Khasi villages and forest. The hike was about 18 km roundtrip I think, and probably 8 of those kilometers were entirely stairs. We started at 9am and returned at 5pm. So it was quite exhausting, but worth it! The villages, scenery, and bridges were all spectacular. The amazingness can only be expressed in pictures:
view of the Khasi Hills and an escarpment at the beginning of the hike
entering Tyrna village
the trail officially starts behind this church
Ben and Joel enjoy descending several kilometers of stairs
did I mention the stairs?! definitely did some damage to our knees. and yeah, we'll have to ascend those later.
Humongous boulders in the river (which I assume is full during the monsoon)
Ben and Joel couldn't resist taking a break from the hiking to go bouldering
our first root bridge!
at over 100 ft, this is the longest bridge
Ben crosses the bridge. I think it's awesome that the war-Khasis trained the trees to make handrails!
another root bridge
root bridges in series
look at the color of the water. awesome.
mini waterfall and a shadow of the steel rope bridge
The steel rope bridges were less sturdy than the living root bridges.
crazy scenery
the end of the hike (halfway point? we had to walk the entire trail back) was the incredible double decker bridge
Khasi villagers on the lower deck
the upper deck
crossing the upper deck
both decks
Khasi girl crossing the lower deck
we ate lunch on a giant boulder in the middle of the river by the double decker bridge
on our way back, Joel and Ben conquer a big boulder in Nongriat village
I don't understand how this rock is balancing.
in a Khasi village
Ben climbing back up way too many stairs
our hike ended with a nice sunset over the hills. Bangladesh is on the other side of that hill.Ben and Joel return to Delhi tomorrow, and they will be here for two days. After they leave I'll write about the rest of our trip.
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