Wedding finery

Last night Bret and I broke out our nicest saree and kurta respectively for the wedding of our friend Rahul. The ceremony itself was at 11:29pm on a Sunday night, which the families' astrologists deemed to be the auspicious time for the occasion. The event began a few hours before that so that there would be enough time for the 700+ guests to eat several servings of veg South Indian food. As there were no utensils available, we ate the proper local way and dig into the rice, curd and dal with our hands.

Cuisine: Mexcon

Okay as Ali has told me, it's not very reasonable for me to make fun of the housestaff's kind efforts to please us with ethnic food. They are relentless in their attempts to keep us happy by making food they think expats like (even though we keep praising their Indian dishes to encourage them to stick to domestic food).

This meal stemmed from my visit last week to Q-Mart-- a small, expensive and dirty grocery store whose only redeeming value is that it's one of the few places in Hyderabad to find things like gouda, Old El Paso salsa and Skippy peanut butter. I came home with a bag full of food I had been missing: flour tortillas, cheddar cheese and salsa. The very next day, I saw the title of our dinner menu-- 'Cuisine: Mexcon' and found these two plates in the fridge: squashed burritos (one filled with breakfast potatoes, the other with a curry-chicken-veg mixture) and creamed corn. The housestaff definitely aims to please.

No monsoon; Yes dahi poori

Okay I guess this shows that I'm really not a local yet. Last week I reported that the monsoon had arrived in Hyderabad (see below), but I read in today's paper that those brief rainstorms were only a taste of what's to come. Apparently it will really be pouring and so I'll know the monsoon has come when it comes. Sorry for spreading false information.

In lieu of the monsoon, I'm bringing you a video of the preparation of my favorite chaat (Indian snack, usually street food). Dahi Poori is native to Mumbai, but this one is being made right here in Hyderabad. It's an incredible mix of salty, sweet, tangy and spicy flavors. The chaat is made on the spot while you wait, and you stuff the whole poori in your mouth immediately, so the flavors don't mush together. You taste each one on your tongue at a different moment and it's amazing! Spicy boiled potatoes and chickpeas are pushed inside a light and flaky fried ball and then the whole thing is topped with plain yogurt, tamarind chutney and a freshly ground roasted spice topping.


This is Arjun, my colleague on the product specialist team (we're a two-man team here), Scott and Sarah, my roommate, all enjoying some dahi poori before dinner.

Karma

I'm at home in Hyd this weekend and really enjoying the downtime. Going back in time a few weeks ago, Bret and I visited Mumbai and were lucky to have a friend from the office, Nachiket, volunteer to show us around his hometown since he happened to be visiting his family at the same time. We spent the day walking around the city learning little known facts from our expert guide.







One of the highlights was visiting this quaint neighborhood in the western part of the city that seemed like more like a rural village than a pocket of the fast and hip Mumbai. We meandered through windy streets down a hill until we came to a rectangular pool of water surrounded by steps that led right up to the front doors of modest homes and a couple of temples.

Only then did Nachiket reveal that his uncle and aunt lived nearby. He gave them a call, and they were quick to invite us over. They ended up living in one of the cute houses that looked right over the pool of water, called the Banganga Tank. It was late afternoon and we had been walking in the sun all day, so all of us had sweat dripping down our faces when we arrived. We left our shoes outside and Nachiket's aunt greeted us with a tray of iced waters.

Bret, Sarah and I shared the same thought simultaneously. Drinking local tap water would be a death wish, but we had to react appropriately to the hospitality of our hosts. Despite being parched, I took a few tiny sips of the water, exaggerating the motion of taking the glass to my lips but never really swallowing much.

Luckily Nachiket's uncle had a son living in the U.S. and could speak enough English well enough to carry on a conversation. Everything was going well until Nachiket's aunt entered again, this time with a tray of glasses filled with ice and a fuscia-colored liquid. Bret, Sarah and I shared another look of dread. At this point, we knew we couldn't keep up our tiny-sip strategy. 'I give in,' I thought. I'm going to drink this, it's going to taste good, it's going to make the situation less awkward, it's going to make Nachiket's aunt happy, and I'm going to be up all night puking. I looked up at Bret and Sarah and it was clear they had made the same decision. We downed the salty, sweet, syrupy drinks in less than a minute. It was super-refreshing, but I couldn't help thinking about how miserable our flight that night would be, each of us taking our turn to run to the bathroom.

After some more chit chat about comparing life and work in India to the U.S., etc. we got a tour of the house by the man of the house. As there were only four rooms, it only took about four minutes. The kitchen was last. As we walked through the cramped cooking area, I spotted a disproportionately large water filtration system. Salvation! I felt a massive wave of relief in realizing that I would not have to hover over the toilet in agony for the next three days. This must have been karma.

RAIN

The monsoon season has officially begun. It's been raining off and on for the past three days, and it's amazing! The temp dropped from over 100 to 80-something, and last night I slept with the AC off and the windows open for the first time. It was nice, but as soon as I woke up I was reminded how the air outside always seems to be somewhat smelly (it's the burning trash). I think the monsoon might also be to blame for my recent sore throat, but it's worth it considering the loud thunder and dust-free streets. Tonight we are heading out to celebrate the monsoon with a nice dinner and dancing, as there will be rain and (kind of) cool weather here on out for four months!

Training Team Offsite Dinner

For our quarterly offsite, the training team visited a posh new restaurant called Tandoor. We took over an entire room and warmed up for dinner with some singing and dancing Bollywood favorites.

Fab India

Yes, fab is a description of what I think of India, but it's also a really great store in Hyderabad that I finally visited last week. It could be an Indian version of Anthropologie but with much lower prices -- the kurtas (longish tunics), salvars (drawstring bottoms with super tapered legs), and churidars (wide baggy bottoms) cost about $8-15. I bought enough to go through an entire work week dressed locally. Besides the price and the fun colors, the best part is that everything is incredibly comfortable (light linen and drawstring everything). Here I'm modelling a kurta and chiridars. The other photo shows the ridiculous shape of my hot pink salvar. Fab!

More on where I live

I've heard some requests for more details about our sweet pad in our gated community, 'Vasanta Valley.' The constant foot traffic (cooks, cleaners, security guards, house managers, etc.) in and out of the house at all times prevents any opportunity for privacy, but besides that, it's a very pleasant place to live.

Check our wide variety of American-style snacks, all ready upon our arrival. (We imported the coffee beans and beer coozies.)

On Coffee

My first day in the office, I discovered the only way to make coffee is with one of the automatic machines in every breakout room. It seemed like a reasonable, though not ideal, alternative to our individual brews and espresso machines in Mountain View. I pressed 'espresso' and out came... a full cup of half milk, half coffee with lots of sugar. I thought it was a mistake, so I put this cup aside and tried again, careful to press only the button that was clearly marked 'espresso,' and got an identical concoction. I was embarassed to be causing this much waste, but at this point was even more determined to get my single shot of espresso. I dumped the first two cups of sweet milky coffee and tried a third time, only to see the exact same liquid sputtering into my cup. I gave up, and asked some people sitting around the breakroom if the machine was broken. Even more embarassed now, I learned that espresso in India does not equal espresso in the US. Espresso is coffee with milk and sugar. My mistake.

However, last weekend in Mumbai, I visited Barista, a hip coffee shop chain that rivals Cafe Coffee Day. [The two companies seem to take their competition to a new level of immaturity-- if one of the two already exists on a particular city block somewhere in India, its counterpart wastes no time in building a new franchise next door.] On the menu, I looked for espresso and saw their explanation, which explained that unlike normal Indian espresso, Barista espresso is served without milk. Finally! And only three weeks into my life in India. My espresso arrived in a neat little shot glass-- free of milk and sugar as promised. I sipped it as we watched the sun go down on the beach. A lovely end to the weekend.

Mysore: palace, kids, head bobbles, zoo

Bret, Ronnie and I spent the weekend in Mysore. It's a lovely small city with an unfortunate name. There's a beautiful and well-kept (no shoes allowed inside!) palace, a colorful market, and a great zoo. We spent lots of time in the market, where Bret and Ronnie tested out dozens of perfumed oils while I hung out with some cute kids and scolded them for not going to school.

If I give you a pen, will you go to school on Monday?

After a long day in the sun, we headed to Parklane restaurant. They let us in the doors two minutes before opening time; when we looked around at 11:30pm and realized we were the only table left, we headed home in an autorikshaw.







Since the guys were jealous of how well I've mastered the Indian head bobble, they tried to work on their skills, but with only a little success: