From Hyderabad we traveled further south to Chennai, one of the biggest cities in south India. We were only there for a day, and for most of that day the Dekhon group was giving a presentation at the local eye-hospital, but I still enjoyed getting to see a bit of a new place. Unlike Mumbai, which is located on an island and thus had to be built upward, Chennai is just an endless sprawl. It's in a much flatter area, right on the coast, so from the heart of the city buildings just explode outwards.
I spent the morning at the guesthouse where we were staying, along with the cook. Chennai is in Tamil Nadu, so the official language is Tamil, which once again takes precedence over Hindi. The cook however, spoke a good deal of English, and surprisingly some Hindi too, so we were able to get along just fine. She knew that we had come from Maharashtra, so for lunch she made a couple of dishes that I would be familiar with (chapatis, dahl, okra subji) as well as a south Indian dish. It seems that whether or not I will like Indian food is a constant source of concern for people, so it was actually quite sweet of her to make me things which she thought I would be comfortable with. We talked a lot about the differences in food, what I liked about India, and other things like that. Most of our conversation was in English, though often we would each slip in some Hindi words. For a native Tamil speaker, I think it was just as exciting for her to show off a bit of Hindi knowledge as it always is for me.
I don't think I have talked about the difference in food yet, which is definitely something that needs mentioning. You can find south Indian food just about anywhere, so I was already familiar with some of it. From my first taste it had become a fast favourite, so I had been anxiously awaiting an opportunity to try some of the authentic stuff. The staple of south Indian food is rice, which is much less heavily featured in Maharashtra. Every meal is eaten with some rice variant, so due to the massive demand it is also one of the main agricultural products. A typical south Indian dish, as well as one of my favourites, is called dosa. You find dosa just about everywhere, so when I think about south Indian food, this is the first place my mind goes. They are like crispy rice pancakes, and are often eaten with a sort of soup called sambar. There are lots of different varieties of dosa, some of which have vegetables folded into them, and others are a couple of feet long, all curled up and crispy.
The actual style of eating is different as well. In Maharashtra, everyone eats with their hands, which I practice I was more than happy to adopt. Some people say that utensils taint the flavours of the food, and while I'm not so sure that is true for me, any chicken nugget and french fry loving kid will agree, that there is simply something fun about eating with your fingers. Anyway, in Maharashtra it is perfectly polite to mash up your food on your plate and suck it off the tips of fingers, formed into a pinched triangular cup. The only rule is that the food can never pass your top knuckle, everything must be kept on your fingers. If you don't keep your eating habits under control, you risk appearing rude or provincial. In the south however, all rules of etiquette are thrown to the wind. On the average south Indian plate you find a monstrous pile of rice, a couple of vegetable dishes (generally soupier than those found in Maharasthra), and often some dahl. But those dishes don't stay segregated for long. With the whole hand (I'm talking all the way up to the wrist) everything is mixed together into one giant slop. Then, again using the entire hand, the mush is rolled into balls and gobbled up from an open palm. By the end of the meal, the shiny metal surface of the plate is the only thing even remotely clean.
Once everyone had finished their meetings, we went out to dinner. To get to the restaurant we took one of the most readily available sources of transportation, and one of the most fun for me- the rickshaw. These aren't the kind of rickshaws that are pulled by bicyclists, they are auto-rickshaws and you find them everywhere in India. They run on natural gas, so they can only go so fast, but they are a really convenient way to get around. They are open on the sides so you are completely vulnerable to the elements, which could be either a blessing or a curse for some. Personally, I like being able to move through a place without feeling sealed off from the sights and sounds, the way you are in a car. In fact, the rickshaws are so prevalent, that schools use them as buses. It would be impossible to send a big bus all over the city to get children for school, and a big bus is expensive. So every morning in Jalna you see rickshaws, which can almost comfortably sit three in the back, carrying somewhere around ten kids. They pile in, sitting on top of each other, in the driver's lap, or standing up with their heads sticking out the sides. It's not exactly the strict safety standards of the American school system, but it makes school accessible for kids who might otherwise be out of reach.
Sorry to go on a bit of a tangent here, but I think the schools using rickshaws is a good example of the way problems are approached in India. If a problem like schools not being able to afford buses arose in the United States, everyone would go through an incredibly complicated and lengthy process to fix it. A public system would be set up and meticulously planned so that, months after the problem arose, it would be fixed, once and for all. In India however, you basically go straight through problems, sometimes in outlandish and complicated ways, but often just simple right-off-the-bat solutions. You do whatever is necessary to make the problem go away, with as little extra-energy expended as possible. It's like a truck that I saw driving around Jalna, with a huge load towering above the truck bed. With a load that tall, an American driver would have meticulously planned his route, no matter how long it ended up being, to avoid any obstacles. But here, I watched as the driver paused at an electrical line that spanned the road. Two men hopped off and pulled out giant wooden poles, which they used to hold the wire up as the driver continued under it. There is no point dwelling on a problem, it just takes a little creativity and you can get on with life.
Anyway, when we got to the restaurant we had a south Indian feast. We got three curries, two of which were sea food based since Chennai is right on the coast, to go with the inevitable rice-based dish. First, we had probably the most ridiculous looking thing I've eaten on this trip so far. I wish I had had my camera with me, but I have included a picture I found online just to give you an idea. Basically, it looked like a little spaghetti monster, but it was made out of rice of course. It is called idiyappam, and is made from a rice batter that is squeezed out into long threads and piled up. You tear off chunks to dip into the curries, and I must say, it was delicious. Next we had appam, which is similar to dosa, in that it is rice batter that is pan fried. But unlike dosa, it has a big doughy puff in the middle. This was actually the first south Indian food I ever tried, so it was sort of like returning to my first food love.
Unfortunately, we didn't have time to see much of the city. One thing Chennai is really known for is its churches, because like a lot of the south, there is some heavy missionary influence. So it's too bad that we didn't get to see any of those, since some of them are apparently really impressive. But who knows, maybe I will get to come back one day. If that is ever the case, I think I now at least have a better culture understanding of southern India, so those grande sights could have a bit more of a backdrop.
I spent the morning at the guesthouse where we were staying, along with the cook. Chennai is in Tamil Nadu, so the official language is Tamil, which once again takes precedence over Hindi. The cook however, spoke a good deal of English, and surprisingly some Hindi too, so we were able to get along just fine. She knew that we had come from Maharashtra, so for lunch she made a couple of dishes that I would be familiar with (chapatis, dahl, okra subji) as well as a south Indian dish. It seems that whether or not I will like Indian food is a constant source of concern for people, so it was actually quite sweet of her to make me things which she thought I would be comfortable with. We talked a lot about the differences in food, what I liked about India, and other things like that. Most of our conversation was in English, though often we would each slip in some Hindi words. For a native Tamil speaker, I think it was just as exciting for her to show off a bit of Hindi knowledge as it always is for me.
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| The aforementioned giant dosa, called paper dosa. |
The actual style of eating is different as well. In Maharashtra, everyone eats with their hands, which I practice I was more than happy to adopt. Some people say that utensils taint the flavours of the food, and while I'm not so sure that is true for me, any chicken nugget and french fry loving kid will agree, that there is simply something fun about eating with your fingers. Anyway, in Maharashtra it is perfectly polite to mash up your food on your plate and suck it off the tips of fingers, formed into a pinched triangular cup. The only rule is that the food can never pass your top knuckle, everything must be kept on your fingers. If you don't keep your eating habits under control, you risk appearing rude or provincial. In the south however, all rules of etiquette are thrown to the wind. On the average south Indian plate you find a monstrous pile of rice, a couple of vegetable dishes (generally soupier than those found in Maharasthra), and often some dahl. But those dishes don't stay segregated for long. With the whole hand (I'm talking all the way up to the wrist) everything is mixed together into one giant slop. Then, again using the entire hand, the mush is rolled into balls and gobbled up from an open palm. By the end of the meal, the shiny metal surface of the plate is the only thing even remotely clean.
Once everyone had finished their meetings, we went out to dinner. To get to the restaurant we took one of the most readily available sources of transportation, and one of the most fun for me- the rickshaw. These aren't the kind of rickshaws that are pulled by bicyclists, they are auto-rickshaws and you find them everywhere in India. They run on natural gas, so they can only go so fast, but they are a really convenient way to get around. They are open on the sides so you are completely vulnerable to the elements, which could be either a blessing or a curse for some. Personally, I like being able to move through a place without feeling sealed off from the sights and sounds, the way you are in a car. In fact, the rickshaws are so prevalent, that schools use them as buses. It would be impossible to send a big bus all over the city to get children for school, and a big bus is expensive. So every morning in Jalna you see rickshaws, which can almost comfortably sit three in the back, carrying somewhere around ten kids. They pile in, sitting on top of each other, in the driver's lap, or standing up with their heads sticking out the sides. It's not exactly the strict safety standards of the American school system, but it makes school accessible for kids who might otherwise be out of reach.
Sorry to go on a bit of a tangent here, but I think the schools using rickshaws is a good example of the way problems are approached in India. If a problem like schools not being able to afford buses arose in the United States, everyone would go through an incredibly complicated and lengthy process to fix it. A public system would be set up and meticulously planned so that, months after the problem arose, it would be fixed, once and for all. In India however, you basically go straight through problems, sometimes in outlandish and complicated ways, but often just simple right-off-the-bat solutions. You do whatever is necessary to make the problem go away, with as little extra-energy expended as possible. It's like a truck that I saw driving around Jalna, with a huge load towering above the truck bed. With a load that tall, an American driver would have meticulously planned his route, no matter how long it ended up being, to avoid any obstacles. But here, I watched as the driver paused at an electrical line that spanned the road. Two men hopped off and pulled out giant wooden poles, which they used to hold the wire up as the driver continued under it. There is no point dwelling on a problem, it just takes a little creativity and you can get on with life.
Unfortunately, we didn't have time to see much of the city. One thing Chennai is really known for is its churches, because like a lot of the south, there is some heavy missionary influence. So it's too bad that we didn't get to see any of those, since some of them are apparently really impressive. But who knows, maybe I will get to come back one day. If that is ever the case, I think I now at least have a better culture understanding of southern India, so those grande sights could have a bit more of a backdrop.
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