Happy belly in Delhi
30 Maart 2015 | India, Delhi
The past week in Delhi has been a colourful experience for the senses. All my senses: sight, smell, touch, hearing, tasting – and additional spiritual and street senses ;) Every night I make it a challenge to order something different from the menu. I have gone through some more known items (from Tanzania and Indian friends in Zambia) like Biryani, Pilau and chapatti – combining it with Mutter Paneer, Shahi Paneer, Dum Aloo, Ghobi Masala and Egg Curry. The last 2 (cauliflower masala and egg curry) are my favourite so far, with Mutter Panneer (a kind of feta cheese in a tomato based sauce) in a close third. At work they are kindly introducing me to different types of Indian food, the first day I tried North Indian and the next South India. I couldn’t tell you the real difference, but they were both delicious. I’m getting used to the spice too, much to the excitement of my Indonesian blood. No Delhi Belly yet! Note to self: touch wood and keep the first aid kit close.
My proposal has taken more shape with the help of my colleagues. Although I have only been there a few days, my feeling is very positive. They work as a team and there is a different atmosphere in the office. Of course there is a professional vibe and people work hard towards their goals. But despite the heat and thick air that is sliced by the blades of the fan and drops in thumps on the neatly cleaned floor, there is a sense of calm that I have not yet felt in another office. Despite the concentration and clear focus, the faces do not look up at me with tension protruding from their eyes, the way they do in some other places I have been. Sometimes I have walked into offices gently, and it has taken some 10 seconds of standing in an awkward stance, shifting weight from foot to foot, before someone looks up from their machine and asks in a polite but piercing string of strung-out words what they can do for me. What you can do for me? Perhaps what you can do for you, is to breathe. Life is for living.
Perhaps it is a naïve thought, the grass is always greener on the other side – even in a hot place like Delhi. It is literally true however, there are spaces of green in New Delhi between the large roads which are swarming with honking cars, auto-tuktuks, rickshaws with their bells and scooters all zigzagging in the most incomprehensible order of chaos. A traffic officer stands at many corners, ready to ticket for ‘irresponsible driving’, but I have yet to figure out what that means. Changing lanes without indicating, crossing solid lines and ignoring zebra crossings where people stand in high alert to cross at the next moment. The regular rules seem to diverge from this reality, or perhaps it is more fluid than my eyes can adjust to. When I follow my route to the metro station, I look ahead to see if a local is about to cross one of the 3 massive, crawling roads between me and my destination. I stick close, like friends, but far apart enough to be a coincidence on their route.
The metro was a complete jump in the deep end the first time. I made sure it was completely safe for me to travel alone and someone from the office helped me secure a card. After putting my bag and myself through a scan, I hobbled to find the right metro. Getting in was a push as if I was rooting for a lottery ticket. Packet full to the brim with men. Now that wouldn’t usually make me break a sweat, but I admit I had been influenced somewhat by the latest news and was already judging anyone who dared glance in my direction. I tried to blame it on my slightly lighter shade of hair. And ridiculous length for a woman. Nevertheless, when my stop came I was of course, facing the wrong door and had to push and shove my way to the other side as fast and apologetically as possible. I will not let my mind wonder what they will have thought about this sweaty, tall girl trying her best not to look lost… Happily I finally found the ‘ladies only’ coach which is much less packed and sometimes air-conditioned so I don’t always look like a shiny whitey ;)
Tomorrow I plan to get up early to try take a quick look at the Gurudwara Bangla Sahib, to ask the Sikhs if I can join their party at 02:00 a.m. every morning (since I’m up anyway). I did make an attempt to go visit on Sunday, but it was absolutely packed - colorful tulbands everywhere, women in sparkling saris but also children in rags. I must have come at a time when they are handing out free food. Not feeling up to THAT many eyes staring at me, I made a u-turn and bee-lined my way upstream, back to the hostel...
My proposal has taken more shape with the help of my colleagues. Although I have only been there a few days, my feeling is very positive. They work as a team and there is a different atmosphere in the office. Of course there is a professional vibe and people work hard towards their goals. But despite the heat and thick air that is sliced by the blades of the fan and drops in thumps on the neatly cleaned floor, there is a sense of calm that I have not yet felt in another office. Despite the concentration and clear focus, the faces do not look up at me with tension protruding from their eyes, the way they do in some other places I have been. Sometimes I have walked into offices gently, and it has taken some 10 seconds of standing in an awkward stance, shifting weight from foot to foot, before someone looks up from their machine and asks in a polite but piercing string of strung-out words what they can do for me. What you can do for me? Perhaps what you can do for you, is to breathe. Life is for living.
Perhaps it is a naïve thought, the grass is always greener on the other side – even in a hot place like Delhi. It is literally true however, there are spaces of green in New Delhi between the large roads which are swarming with honking cars, auto-tuktuks, rickshaws with their bells and scooters all zigzagging in the most incomprehensible order of chaos. A traffic officer stands at many corners, ready to ticket for ‘irresponsible driving’, but I have yet to figure out what that means. Changing lanes without indicating, crossing solid lines and ignoring zebra crossings where people stand in high alert to cross at the next moment. The regular rules seem to diverge from this reality, or perhaps it is more fluid than my eyes can adjust to. When I follow my route to the metro station, I look ahead to see if a local is about to cross one of the 3 massive, crawling roads between me and my destination. I stick close, like friends, but far apart enough to be a coincidence on their route.
The metro was a complete jump in the deep end the first time. I made sure it was completely safe for me to travel alone and someone from the office helped me secure a card. After putting my bag and myself through a scan, I hobbled to find the right metro. Getting in was a push as if I was rooting for a lottery ticket. Packet full to the brim with men. Now that wouldn’t usually make me break a sweat, but I admit I had been influenced somewhat by the latest news and was already judging anyone who dared glance in my direction. I tried to blame it on my slightly lighter shade of hair. And ridiculous length for a woman. Nevertheless, when my stop came I was of course, facing the wrong door and had to push and shove my way to the other side as fast and apologetically as possible. I will not let my mind wonder what they will have thought about this sweaty, tall girl trying her best not to look lost… Happily I finally found the ‘ladies only’ coach which is much less packed and sometimes air-conditioned so I don’t always look like a shiny whitey ;)
Tomorrow I plan to get up early to try take a quick look at the Gurudwara Bangla Sahib, to ask the Sikhs if I can join their party at 02:00 a.m. every morning (since I’m up anyway). I did make an attempt to go visit on Sunday, but it was absolutely packed - colorful tulbands everywhere, women in sparkling saris but also children in rags. I must have come at a time when they are handing out free food. Not feeling up to THAT many eyes staring at me, I made a u-turn and bee-lined my way upstream, back to the hostel...
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