You know, today I was walking down the street lost in thought, and I distinctly recall having the thought "Oh shit, I'm learning to love it here." ...and the thought was part slap in the face, part déja-vu, because I remembered the moment I had that thought in Thailand. After over a week of not being all that impressed with Thailand as a whole, I was standing atop a temple in Ratchaburi, overlooking rural Thailand, with its luscious green mountains and fertile rice paddies, and I couldn't help myself.
Today was a bit like that.
I woke up reasonably early (6:30 - yes, I realize this is an unheard of time for most people. For me, it's approaching sleeping in) and laid in bed talking to Tim until the ungodly hour of 9:30 - a time which no person should ever be in bed - and then I got up and went out for the day. Most of my mornings are like this, lately. Wake up early, and lay there for ages on the internet or on the phone. I'm really tired in the mornings lately, and I haven't been going to bed earlier than 11PM, which is unusual for me. As it is, it's 9PM right now, and I'm writing a blog and munching on roasted peanuts I bought off a street vendor. I'm starting to experiment with street food, but only the stuff that I can see no possible way of making me ill (like peanuts and cookies).
I decided to hit up some of the markets today, and basically, my day consisted of eating and shopping; two things which, if left to my own devices, I secretly love doing. I hopped on the metro (and let me say this: even in India, the metro lines are better than the Skytrain line at home) ...and went to Khan Market. It's a fixed price market, catering to expats and more modern fashions and things. There were lots of restaurants and cafés, and a bunch of clothing retailers, like Nike, Puma, Adidas, etc. I was told I could find a tailor there, so I browsed around for a while. And it was awesome. I didn't get harassed, I didn't have to haggle, and people didn't ask me if I wanted: a taxi, a good deal, a place to stay, etc. It was just regular middle-class people, shopping, much like you would find at home (except that it was designed more like a strip mall down a series of streets, rather than an open-air market or a full shopping centre).
I found a pâtisserie there, and sat down to an excellent cup of darjeeling tea and a sugar brioche. I was so excited. It was a reasonably decent brioche, though I prefer them to be nature, and the tea wasn't bad. I'm not a huge fan of black teas (or the tea leaf in general), but herbal teas are rare here, and I don't mind the taste of darjeeling if it's got a teaspoon of sugar in it. I even dipped my brioche in my tea. For 30 minutes of my life today, I was French, and it was fantastic. French expats kept coming into the café, so the background noise was soft music, and the lilting tones of the langue d'amour. I grabbed a vegetable quiche and a grillé aux pommes (little apple tart) for the road, with the full intentions of returning tomorrow for another tea and another delectable item.
After wandering around, I learned that I couldn't get an Indian suit tailored there (only men's suits, sadly) - but there were many shops with premade kurtas, and I bought one, after nearly an hour of trying things on. I was worried that I would leave India without an indian suit (or indian dress - I think these words get used interchangably) ...and so I patiently kept trying things on until I found something I liked. It wasn't cheap, but I've noticed so far that the nicer things in India aren't really all that cheap, anyhow. I would love to buy a Kashmir shawl while I'm here, but the finer ones run prices near to 5000RS (I could make that last 5 nights accommodation, plus a few meals if I needed to)
In a last-ditch effort to find a tailor, I decided to travel to this other market that the man in the suit shop told me to go to. So once again, I found myself on the metro traveling towards Lajpat Nagar, and after a half-block of walking, I found a shop selling fabric, walked in, and found out they also did tailoring.
I must have been there two hours. I explained to the tailor what I wanted, and he showed me lots of fabrics that made my eyes pop out of my head in disgust - I just can't stand sequins, I'm sorry - and so we settled on two outfits, one plain and one fancy, and the total cost of getting that done came to just over the price of purchasing my ONE outfit premade earlier. I was a bit upset about that, but not terribly so. I can't pick these kurtas up for two weeks (when I pass back through Delhi after WWOOFing) and I wanted an outfit to wear in the meantime. So really, it's win-win ...I just spent more than I planned to. The price for the tailoring was really reasonable, though. When he gave me the grand total, I was visibly surprised, and therefore lost any edge I would have had on haggling, but c'est bon. I'm happy with what I got.
And I am purposefully being vague. I plan on keeping the colours and designs a secret until they're finished.
After that, I wandered around for a bit, and headed back to the main drag that my hotel is on. I got some henna done, in a light orange colour, which is a new one on me - I've had red, dark brown, and black done so far, but light orange was a surprise when I washed off the paste. I like it, a bit - it's subtle, but it blends into my skin more than I would have liked. It's okay, though: I think the orange is supposed to be more traditional (because indian ladies have such dark skin). I think it's just a bit odd on my pale skin.
Oh, and I keep meaning to mention, but continuously forget: people keep mistaking me for either French or Israeli. I can understand the French. I am French. But Israeli? Don't get me wrong, I fully intend to take it as a compliment, because I think Israeli women are some of the most beautiful women on the planet, but I just don't see how I resemble someone of Arabic blood. ...maybe it's the scarf.
Today was a bit like that.
I woke up reasonably early (6:30 - yes, I realize this is an unheard of time for most people. For me, it's approaching sleeping in) and laid in bed talking to Tim until the ungodly hour of 9:30 - a time which no person should ever be in bed - and then I got up and went out for the day. Most of my mornings are like this, lately. Wake up early, and lay there for ages on the internet or on the phone. I'm really tired in the mornings lately, and I haven't been going to bed earlier than 11PM, which is unusual for me. As it is, it's 9PM right now, and I'm writing a blog and munching on roasted peanuts I bought off a street vendor. I'm starting to experiment with street food, but only the stuff that I can see no possible way of making me ill (like peanuts and cookies).
I decided to hit up some of the markets today, and basically, my day consisted of eating and shopping; two things which, if left to my own devices, I secretly love doing. I hopped on the metro (and let me say this: even in India, the metro lines are better than the Skytrain line at home) ...and went to Khan Market. It's a fixed price market, catering to expats and more modern fashions and things. There were lots of restaurants and cafés, and a bunch of clothing retailers, like Nike, Puma, Adidas, etc. I was told I could find a tailor there, so I browsed around for a while. And it was awesome. I didn't get harassed, I didn't have to haggle, and people didn't ask me if I wanted: a taxi, a good deal, a place to stay, etc. It was just regular middle-class people, shopping, much like you would find at home (except that it was designed more like a strip mall down a series of streets, rather than an open-air market or a full shopping centre).
I found a pâtisserie there, and sat down to an excellent cup of darjeeling tea and a sugar brioche. I was so excited. It was a reasonably decent brioche, though I prefer them to be nature, and the tea wasn't bad. I'm not a huge fan of black teas (or the tea leaf in general), but herbal teas are rare here, and I don't mind the taste of darjeeling if it's got a teaspoon of sugar in it. I even dipped my brioche in my tea. For 30 minutes of my life today, I was French, and it was fantastic. French expats kept coming into the café, so the background noise was soft music, and the lilting tones of the langue d'amour. I grabbed a vegetable quiche and a grillé aux pommes (little apple tart) for the road, with the full intentions of returning tomorrow for another tea and another delectable item.
A bit blurry, but this is the premade outfit I bought.
In a last-ditch effort to find a tailor, I decided to travel to this other market that the man in the suit shop told me to go to. So once again, I found myself on the metro traveling towards Lajpat Nagar, and after a half-block of walking, I found a shop selling fabric, walked in, and found out they also did tailoring.
I must have been there two hours. I explained to the tailor what I wanted, and he showed me lots of fabrics that made my eyes pop out of my head in disgust - I just can't stand sequins, I'm sorry - and so we settled on two outfits, one plain and one fancy, and the total cost of getting that done came to just over the price of purchasing my ONE outfit premade earlier. I was a bit upset about that, but not terribly so. I can't pick these kurtas up for two weeks (when I pass back through Delhi after WWOOFing) and I wanted an outfit to wear in the meantime. So really, it's win-win ...I just spent more than I planned to. The price for the tailoring was really reasonable, though. When he gave me the grand total, I was visibly surprised, and therefore lost any edge I would have had on haggling, but c'est bon. I'm happy with what I got.
And I am purposefully being vague. I plan on keeping the colours and designs a secret until they're finished.
After that, I wandered around for a bit, and headed back to the main drag that my hotel is on. I got some henna done, in a light orange colour, which is a new one on me - I've had red, dark brown, and black done so far, but light orange was a surprise when I washed off the paste. I like it, a bit - it's subtle, but it blends into my skin more than I would have liked. It's okay, though: I think the orange is supposed to be more traditional (because indian ladies have such dark skin). I think it's just a bit odd on my pale skin.
The paste
After the paste
.jpg)
4 comments:
Hi there - it was great chatting with your this morning.
So glad to hear you are learning to love it there.
Great design and detail on the mendhi - too bad it's so pale when the paste comes off. That pre-made outfit you bought is such a great shade of green - not everyone can wear that color, but I love it. Sly girl keeping the tailored ones a secret.
As I watched the street scene video, it struck me as organized chaos - no one got run over, no accidents, pedestrians didn't scramble to get out of the way, definately no set rules of the road, but it all works.
Oh and I totally get the French or Israeli connection. It's the dark hair and almond shaped eyes - exotic looking - definately not they concept of North American.
Hopefully I'll catch you tomorrow morning online. Almost feels normal to be chatting with you halfway around the world. I almost picked up the phone to chat instead of type, but it's your bedtime and I'm just getting up.
loves ya muchly
xxx mama xxx
reading your blog is becoming a highlight for me. sooo happy that you are starting to love it. our bodies, minds and spirits need time to adjust. it is normal. the other thing that happens is when our soul slows down then we start to blend in. don't ask me how that happens. but i remember when i first came to roatan it was sooo new and different that i felt (and acted) odd and guess what? the dogs all hated me!! they'd bark and growl and attack me. (and I am a dog lover!) but now that i am here, settled and quiet inside they aren't threatened. people see that too. you are doing great katee!! :-)
you look beautiful in your outfit too.
um... one thing you should correct. please don't ever call an israeli an arab. that is a big no no as they are true enemies. i have been to israel and i could see how you'd be mistaken for being israeli. israeli girls are STRONG INSIDE. it is a compliment. just think. they could think you were an american. (UGH!)
where are you off to next?
my comment came up twice that is why i deleted it. it wasn't that i wrote something i regreted.. just a glitch with blogger.
Post a Comment