Monday August 13'2012
I've really become quite tired of sweating 24 hours a day. Really, quite tired. I've started window shopping online for fall clothes. Each of them, little pieces of heaven. A reminder that cool weather does exist. Layering. I miss layering. I wore two tank tops the other day and Raj laughed at me... Boots, beautiful boots. Oh hello leather bomber jacket, you are wonderful to me. Although I did pick up a few uber cute Indian skirts at Dilli Haat last night... but even then I've been mentally searching my closet at home finding ways to transform them into fall attire. Yesterday was a lot of good times. Until I got tired and cranky again, but for the most part good times. Probably because I spent money. This usually results in a good time, unless it has something to do with my jeep. Gas, parking tickets, speeding tickets, parking tickets, parking, parking tickets. Anyway, Dilli Haat is a handi-craft market in South Delhi. It's beautiful. Just adorable. It's gated and you have to pay to enter (like the equivalent of 50 cents for 4 people) but because of this, there are no homeless people begging you to feed their children, no vendors bombarding your already invaded space, pushing their low quality merchandise on you. No pant-less babies guilting you to feel like a selfish, rich, pant wearing bitch. It was lovely. And CLEAN! It even SMELLED clean (this was a first for my nostrils, what a relief it was to not smell anything. for the first time in 2 months my senses were at peace)
You walk through the gate and your in a completely different world of tropical greenery, straw and wooden huts, cobble stone pathways, and colourful merchandize. I was immediately drawn to the faux pashminas (the real ones being banned and retardedly expensive) I bought 4. Plus the one from Connaught Place. Obsessed. See, even here I am thinking fall, scarves. There were fifty scarf stands, at least, all with amazing colours and designs. I finally committed to one, only because they offered me a seat and pulled out a million and one different scarves to show me. How could I leave now? So this is how they get you. And here you have to barter, and I was good. Damn, was I good. It's funny how little things like this show you how much you've grown up and grown into yourself. I remember when I was in Mexico five years ago, the thought of bartering was uncomfortably intimidating. I sucked at it. I didn't have the balls to fight for what I wanted. Now, shit, I barter like a mader chod. Got exactly what I wanted every time. I even got aggressive. Say whaa? 950?! The shop two feet down is selling those for 500! Too much. No, no.
Then they'll say, 900? Pfft, no way. I say 400? Pfft, no way. They say 600. Nope (I walk away) And then you have them... OK! OK! What you pay? 400. 450? Deal. (There was no store two feet down selling the same thing for five hundred, but now I've won) And that was my evening. A grand one at that. I could have spent all night there (stays open till 10pm) but my non-system comprehending companions were fading. None the less, the Haat was a success. 4 faushminas, 2 skirts, gifts for Julie and Cristina (not telling, it's a surprise!) and a MUG! A wooden hand carved hunk of a mug. It's handsome. I love mugs.
But I also love food, and Dilli Haat was full of it, like most places in Delhi. Upon arriving, we went straight for Kulfi- you must properly fuel before take off. Only this kulfi was in a little clay pot served with a stick as a spoon. Like those malt cups you used to get at gas stations and convenient stores. God, I used to eat those all the time when I was a kid, another clue to solving my childhood obesity. Pretty sure this form of kulfi makes the top three favourite things to put in my mouth here. I kept the pot. I'm gonna plant something in it. Like... peas? Or basil. Pansies. Or I'll use it to store my pennies. Or a sugar bowl! Done. Mid way through my spree, we stopped at the outdoor food court. It was so quaint, equipped with giant air conditioners. I could have sat there for hours, sipping my fruit beer (if regular beer tasted like this stuff I'd be a raging alcoholic. A completely guilt free dead beat drunk.) We shared some DIY pani puri, aloo chat (my fave) and aloo tikka (a new dish for my pallet. Potatoes fried and covered in yogurt and various thick and creamy sauces) Holy Moly. We also stopped at a coconut stand on the side of the road on the way to Dilli Haat (I'm backtracking, I forget things) These things are all along major roadways. They're hilarious. A GIANT pile of big green coconuts, beside a bathtub, beside a man, all covered by a flimsy tarp held up with sticks. I am going to assume the bathtub is where they store the cool coconuts..? I really don't understand it's purpose. But it's funny. You pull over, they fish a coconut from the tub, chop the top off with a machete, throw a straw in it and bam. Coconut water. And they stay there all day long. And night too. You'll drive down the road at 3am and there is coconut man, sleeping next to his coconuts. I wonder if he ever actually leaves his station? If you can sleep at your work place, eat and drink your merchandise, legally pee on the side of the road, what reason could you possibly have to leave. Poor hygiene? You're sitting beside a bathtub. After Dilli Haat, Raj Eddie and Akshee took me to a spread of malls in South Delhi. The "fancy malls". I was already done for the day at this point but when I saw one of the malls had a Forever 21, I perked right up. 30 seconds in the store and Raj says Ok, moving on. See, this is why I shop alone. No one in their right mind spends less than 30 minutes in Forever 21, let alone 30 seconds. Fine. So long pretty clothes. Now I'm done. I'm ready to call it quits. But we must wander. Then it's time to eat (10:30pm) I'm not even hungry. Me. Not hungry. Exhausted? Yes. Cranky? Absolutely. We're having punjabi food, I am told. If you've paid any attention to me you'd know I've sworn off Indian meals all together (minus aloo chat. But that's just potatoes. And it's more like a snack, anyway. Doesn't count. Shut up) Ya so I say no to punjabi with a pout. Bah humbug. And then I see it. There in the food court amid back to back Indian fast food hubs and a KFC I see... A crepery! Sandwiches, sweet and savoury crepes, all day breakfast, cookies! Thank you Jesus. Thank you. And the Lord blessed me with an appetite, shawn upon me and said, Eat child, you are home.
The hardest part was deciding if I wanted breakfast or a sandwich. It was actually a really difficult decision. South Delhi is far away, who knows if I'll have another opportunity like this for another whole month. The pressure. Then I saw the B.L.T. and there was no question. Bacon. Bread. Mayo. Magic. I need that. Not I'll have that, or Could I please have that, No. My mouth exploded with, I NEED THAT! as my trembling, pig depraved finger pointed to the glorious sandwich. 10 minutes later I was sitting in front of a delicious ciabatta filled with gift from Jesus, a real salad with lettuce, fries, an ICE TEA and a cookie. Nothing else existed. I tried my best to savour this moment. Thoroughly enjoy every last bite, every flavour. I created a bubble around me and the romance that was my plate of food. Nothing could penetrate this moment. I tuned everything out, even those sitting next to me. It's just you and me, Sammy. You and me. The sandwich wasn't even that good, but shit it was the best sandwich I have ever had. Thank you God, for bringing me back to life.
I've really become quite tired of sweating 24 hours a day. Really, quite tired. I've started window shopping online for fall clothes. Each of them, little pieces of heaven. A reminder that cool weather does exist. Layering. I miss layering. I wore two tank tops the other day and Raj laughed at me... Boots, beautiful boots. Oh hello leather bomber jacket, you are wonderful to me. Although I did pick up a few uber cute Indian skirts at Dilli Haat last night... but even then I've been mentally searching my closet at home finding ways to transform them into fall attire. Yesterday was a lot of good times. Until I got tired and cranky again, but for the most part good times. Probably because I spent money. This usually results in a good time, unless it has something to do with my jeep. Gas, parking tickets, speeding tickets, parking tickets, parking, parking tickets. Anyway, Dilli Haat is a handi-craft market in South Delhi. It's beautiful. Just adorable. It's gated and you have to pay to enter (like the equivalent of 50 cents for 4 people) but because of this, there are no homeless people begging you to feed their children, no vendors bombarding your already invaded space, pushing their low quality merchandise on you. No pant-less babies guilting you to feel like a selfish, rich, pant wearing bitch. It was lovely. And CLEAN! It even SMELLED clean (this was a first for my nostrils, what a relief it was to not smell anything. for the first time in 2 months my senses were at peace)
You walk through the gate and your in a completely different world of tropical greenery, straw and wooden huts, cobble stone pathways, and colourful merchandize. I was immediately drawn to the faux pashminas (the real ones being banned and retardedly expensive) I bought 4. Plus the one from Connaught Place. Obsessed. See, even here I am thinking fall, scarves. There were fifty scarf stands, at least, all with amazing colours and designs. I finally committed to one, only because they offered me a seat and pulled out a million and one different scarves to show me. How could I leave now? So this is how they get you. And here you have to barter, and I was good. Damn, was I good. It's funny how little things like this show you how much you've grown up and grown into yourself. I remember when I was in Mexico five years ago, the thought of bartering was uncomfortably intimidating. I sucked at it. I didn't have the balls to fight for what I wanted. Now, shit, I barter like a mader chod. Got exactly what I wanted every time. I even got aggressive. Say whaa? 950?! The shop two feet down is selling those for 500! Too much. No, no.
Then they'll say, 900? Pfft, no way. I say 400? Pfft, no way. They say 600. Nope (I walk away) And then you have them... OK! OK! What you pay? 400. 450? Deal. (There was no store two feet down selling the same thing for five hundred, but now I've won) And that was my evening. A grand one at that. I could have spent all night there (stays open till 10pm) but my non-system comprehending companions were fading. None the less, the Haat was a success. 4 faushminas, 2 skirts, gifts for Julie and Cristina (not telling, it's a surprise!) and a MUG! A wooden hand carved hunk of a mug. It's handsome. I love mugs.
But I also love food, and Dilli Haat was full of it, like most places in Delhi. Upon arriving, we went straight for Kulfi- you must properly fuel before take off. Only this kulfi was in a little clay pot served with a stick as a spoon. Like those malt cups you used to get at gas stations and convenient stores. God, I used to eat those all the time when I was a kid, another clue to solving my childhood obesity. Pretty sure this form of kulfi makes the top three favourite things to put in my mouth here. I kept the pot. I'm gonna plant something in it. Like... peas? Or basil. Pansies. Or I'll use it to store my pennies. Or a sugar bowl! Done. Mid way through my spree, we stopped at the outdoor food court. It was so quaint, equipped with giant air conditioners. I could have sat there for hours, sipping my fruit beer (if regular beer tasted like this stuff I'd be a raging alcoholic. A completely guilt free dead beat drunk.) We shared some DIY pani puri, aloo chat (my fave) and aloo tikka (a new dish for my pallet. Potatoes fried and covered in yogurt and various thick and creamy sauces) Holy Moly. We also stopped at a coconut stand on the side of the road on the way to Dilli Haat (I'm backtracking, I forget things) These things are all along major roadways. They're hilarious. A GIANT pile of big green coconuts, beside a bathtub, beside a man, all covered by a flimsy tarp held up with sticks. I am going to assume the bathtub is where they store the cool coconuts..? I really don't understand it's purpose. But it's funny. You pull over, they fish a coconut from the tub, chop the top off with a machete, throw a straw in it and bam. Coconut water. And they stay there all day long. And night too. You'll drive down the road at 3am and there is coconut man, sleeping next to his coconuts. I wonder if he ever actually leaves his station? If you can sleep at your work place, eat and drink your merchandise, legally pee on the side of the road, what reason could you possibly have to leave. Poor hygiene? You're sitting beside a bathtub. After Dilli Haat, Raj Eddie and Akshee took me to a spread of malls in South Delhi. The "fancy malls". I was already done for the day at this point but when I saw one of the malls had a Forever 21, I perked right up. 30 seconds in the store and Raj says Ok, moving on. See, this is why I shop alone. No one in their right mind spends less than 30 minutes in Forever 21, let alone 30 seconds. Fine. So long pretty clothes. Now I'm done. I'm ready to call it quits. But we must wander. Then it's time to eat (10:30pm) I'm not even hungry. Me. Not hungry. Exhausted? Yes. Cranky? Absolutely. We're having punjabi food, I am told. If you've paid any attention to me you'd know I've sworn off Indian meals all together (minus aloo chat. But that's just potatoes. And it's more like a snack, anyway. Doesn't count. Shut up) Ya so I say no to punjabi with a pout. Bah humbug. And then I see it. There in the food court amid back to back Indian fast food hubs and a KFC I see... A crepery! Sandwiches, sweet and savoury crepes, all day breakfast, cookies! Thank you Jesus. Thank you. And the Lord blessed me with an appetite, shawn upon me and said, Eat child, you are home.
The hardest part was deciding if I wanted breakfast or a sandwich. It was actually a really difficult decision. South Delhi is far away, who knows if I'll have another opportunity like this for another whole month. The pressure. Then I saw the B.L.T. and there was no question. Bacon. Bread. Mayo. Magic. I need that. Not I'll have that, or Could I please have that, No. My mouth exploded with, I NEED THAT! as my trembling, pig depraved finger pointed to the glorious sandwich. 10 minutes later I was sitting in front of a delicious ciabatta filled with gift from Jesus, a real salad with lettuce, fries, an ICE TEA and a cookie. Nothing else existed. I tried my best to savour this moment. Thoroughly enjoy every last bite, every flavour. I created a bubble around me and the romance that was my plate of food. Nothing could penetrate this moment. I tuned everything out, even those sitting next to me. It's just you and me, Sammy. You and me. The sandwich wasn't even that good, but shit it was the best sandwich I have ever had. Thank you God, for bringing me back to life.
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