Aashish: “Fantastic!”
Shannon: “Absurd!”
I'm not sure what my characteristic word or phrase would be. I used to say “and stuff” a lot, but I don't think I do that anymore. It's probably easier for someone else to detect.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
In the ground in Chennai
After not sleeping for about 40 hours, I made the adjustment to local time. After a couple of days of feeling tired at odd times, I have felt remarkably normal, (in terms of jet lag). For the past 10 days or so, I've felt like I live here. The "in the ground" reference was a misprint from my facebook status. I was never quite that low. I'm glad Mom doesn't read facebook, or she might have drawn the wrong conclusion.
Chennai, my home for the next 7 months, is a city of contrasts. There are trees everywhere, and there are times when I don't feel that I'm in a city of 7 million people. From my balcony, I look out over rooftops with washing hung out to dry, palm trees and a flame of the forest tree in full bloom. I share my balcony with the crows--Indian crows have a grey head--and some pigeons. There are birds that I haven't seen but can hear, including one that sounds like a car alarm.
The neighborhood is very quiet. One of my neighbors, a half block down, is an important government minister named Stalin (no relation to the Russian dictator). There are barricades to close the road, and armed police in front of the building and the ends of the block, but so far I haven't seen much activity. Some friends live in another neighborhood nearby where Stalin's father lives, (the most important government minister in Tamil Nadu--there are giant posters of father and son smiling benevolently at everyone). I went over to my friend's house the other night (to barbecue pizza on the rooftop patio--barbecued pizza with dough and other fixin's from scratch--awesome), and they had barricades everywhere.
One advantage of sharing the neighborhood with the second most important man in Tamil Nadu is that power cuts on my block will be rare. We actually had one the other night for a short time, and although the fans and lights continued on the battery backup, the air conditioners shut down. In arriving at this time of year, I missed the worse of the hot weather so lack of air conditioning is not fatal. With the balcony doors and windows open, we get a nice breeze, although I have been using the air conditioner in my room at night. When the rains come and mosquitoes arise in their trillions, I'll have to keep the balcony doors closed and use the main air conditioning more. The cook-stove is gas, so we can always cook in case of a power cut. I am going to look into getting some kind of screen doors for the balconies--all the windows are already screened.
The apartment is within easy walking distance of a grocery store, an amazing bakery, and several good restaurants. The Thai place is pretty good and the Korean place is heaven descended to earth--I'll be a regular there for sure.
Traffic here is reminiscent of Bangkok. Lanes are optional--horns are obligatory. I have my own car and driver which simplifies things greatly. Rama is a very good driver, and I feel safe. He also knows the city and knows how to get things done.
"Rama. The lock to the small balcony is broken." "Yes sir. I will fix." The same afternoon and 100 rupees poorer (about US$ 2), the lock has been taken care of.
Raju comes in 6 days a week to clean and iron. 3 days he also stays to cook. He cooks enough for 3 to 4 people, and most of the time I've had people here to help eat it, but if not I'll have great leftovers. The drawback is that Raju doesn't speak English and he also doesn't speak Tamil, so I can't even have Rama translate. We've done OK with gestures, and he does have a few English words like "shopping", "iron" and "tomorrow". He actually splits his time between here and Will's apartment in another neighborhood. Will's company has a couple of people who speak Hindi and can communicate with Raju, so if I have something complicated to share with Raju, I e-mail them and they let him know.
Anthony, who I am replacing, has been here for a year and has done all the ground work for me to have an amazing life here. He is introducing me to the area, the best restaurants and to the large network of expats from all over the world living here. I am not the social butterfly that Anthony is, but it's nice to be part of a community and I'll be fairly involved.
The first weekend I was here we went to Ideal Beach south of Chennai near Mammalapuram. It's interesting to get out of the city into the countryside. The beach is your basic tropical paradise. Relaxing on the beach in a hammock--not bad.
I have been really active in my first two weeks here, so much so that I have been dilatory in getting this new phase of the blog underway. I've been to two movies, (I can't remember the last movie I went to in the States), several dinner parties and many great restaurants. I have toured the ruins at Mammalapuram, travelled to Vellore and many other things.
More later. Cheerio, Alan
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Thai Coconut Milk Curry (stew style)
Several have asked for the basic recipe, so here it is. I don't follow this precisely any more, but if you do you should have good results. The key is the slow adding of coconut milk, and the gradual richening (if that is a word) of the flavors.
Stew Style Thai Curry
(Serves 6)
Ingredients:
- (Optional) Fresh or dried Kaffir lime leaves: 2 or 3 [Finely minced]
- Yellow, Matsaman, or Panang curry paste (Mah Ploy brand preferred): 1 TBS.
- Nam Blah (Thai fish sauce): 2 to 4 TBS.
- Sugar: 1 TBS.
- Water: ¼ to ½ cup
- Peanut butter: ⅛ to ¼ cup
- Coconut cream: 2 cans (Approx. 3 cups)
- Chicken or beef: 1 lb. [Cubed]
- Potatoes: 2 or 3 medium size [Cubed]
- Unsalted roasted peanuts: Garnish to taste
Preparation:
- (With dried Kaffir lime leaves, reconstitute in warm water until soft, approx. 1 hour).
Remove stems from Kaffir lime leaves and finely mince. - Dissolve curry paste in Nam Blah. Add minced lime leaves, sugar, water and peanut butter, and mix until smooth. Add additional water as needed to thin the mixture. Set aside.
- Pre-heat ½ cup of coconut cream in saucepan. Add meat and boil until the meat is cooked through. If the mixture becomes too dry, add water. Set aside.
- In large saucepan of water, boil cubed potatoes until fully cooked, drain water and set aside.
- Heat 2½ cups of coconut cream in a saucepan until it reaches boiling point and set aside.
- Heat a large wok or stockpot, add ½ cup pre-heatened coconut cream. Stir constantly over moderate high heat until it thickens, forms large bubbles, and begins to spatter.
- Add liquid curry paste mixture and heat until mixture is fragrant and thick. Add pre-heatened coconut cream ¼ cup at a time, waiting each time until the mixture thickens and begins to bubble. Take your time on this step.
- When all the coconut cream has been added, add meat and potatoes, combine thoroughly and simmer for 5 minutes.
- Serve with Thai Jasmine rice, and garnish with peanuts to taste.
Updated: 9-23-00
Fortinbras
‘Fortinbras, where are my golf clubs?’
‘Respectfully, Sir, you don't play golf.’
‘That is irreverent…er…irrelevant to the case. The question remains as to the whereabouts of my golf clubs.’
‘The precise location may be somewhat difficult to define, but I would conjecture that they are somewhere in the vicinity of the fourth fairway, approximately between the sand-trap and the water hazard.’
‘Confound it! What are you saying?’
‘The vicar stopped by to see you this morning while you were slee…er…studying in the library. I took the liberty of acceding to his request for donations to the annual parish jumble sale.’
‘You gave away my golf clubs!’
‘As you have so cunningly deduced, I have donated your golf clubs to charity, to benefit the poor in our community.’
‘I don't see what good my set of clubs will do for some starving family. For one thing, the committee would never allow them membership in the golf club.’
‘Yes, Sir, that is true, but sometimes Good follows a more circuitous route.’
**********
‘Goodness me! What on earth was that?’
‘The Hand of Divine Providence, Sir.’
‘The hand of divine providence, my foot! Some blathering idiot has foozled their drive off the fifth tee.’
‘Yes, Sir. That would appear to be the case. Would you like me to ring up MacDonald to repair the damage?’
‘MacDonald?…MacDonald?…Hmm…I don't remember a MacDonald.’
‘No, Sir. He is new in the village. He has been unable to find work, and his wife is expecting their third child. I thought that he might be available.’
‘Yes, yes…I suppose that would be all right. Well, I am going upstairs to write some letters. On no account am I to be disturbed.’
‘Yes, Sir. Very good, Sir.’
**********
‘MacDonald? This is Fortinbras, up at the manor. I have a job for you…Yes, right away. Good day!’
**********
‘Good afternoon Vicar. What can I do for you?’
‘I'm terribly sorry. An unexpected gust of wind appears to have caught my ball and precipitated it through the roof of your greenhouse. I hope that no-one was hurt.’
‘Happily, Sir, we are uninjured. I see that you are golfing again. If I may be so bold as to ask…Where did you eventually locate your golf clubs?’
‘I haven't found them yet. I have searched everywhere, but my wife is a cleverer woman than I. She seems to have this fixation in her head that the inexplicable accidents, which occur from time to time on the golf course, are a result of incompetence on my part. Extraordinary idea, but there you have it.’
‘Yes, Sir. Terribly vexing for you, I'm sure.’
‘Actually, these are the Colonel's clubs, which he so generously donated to the parish jumble sale. I just thought that I would take them through their paces, before offering them for sale on the auction block. I should deeply regret if anyone purchased them, in good faith, and found them lacking somehow in quality.’
‘An admirable idea, and one which reinforces the high regard that the English people have for their clergy.’
‘Yes…well, I thought that I would look in. I hope that it will be all right…about the roof, I mean.’
‘Don't let it cause you any concern. The situation is well in hand. Have a good day Sir, and God bless you.’
‘Respectfully, Sir, you don't play golf.’
‘That is irreverent…er…irrelevant to the case. The question remains as to the whereabouts of my golf clubs.’
‘The precise location may be somewhat difficult to define, but I would conjecture that they are somewhere in the vicinity of the fourth fairway, approximately between the sand-trap and the water hazard.’
‘Confound it! What are you saying?’
‘The vicar stopped by to see you this morning while you were slee…er…studying in the library. I took the liberty of acceding to his request for donations to the annual parish jumble sale.’
‘You gave away my golf clubs!’
‘As you have so cunningly deduced, I have donated your golf clubs to charity, to benefit the poor in our community.’
‘I don't see what good my set of clubs will do for some starving family. For one thing, the committee would never allow them membership in the golf club.’
‘Yes, Sir, that is true, but sometimes Good follows a more circuitous route.’
**********
‘Goodness me! What on earth was that?’
‘The Hand of Divine Providence, Sir.’
‘The hand of divine providence, my foot! Some blathering idiot has foozled their drive off the fifth tee.’
‘Yes, Sir. That would appear to be the case. Would you like me to ring up MacDonald to repair the damage?’
‘MacDonald?…MacDonald?…Hmm…I don't remember a MacDonald.’
‘No, Sir. He is new in the village. He has been unable to find work, and his wife is expecting their third child. I thought that he might be available.’
‘Yes, yes…I suppose that would be all right. Well, I am going upstairs to write some letters. On no account am I to be disturbed.’
‘Yes, Sir. Very good, Sir.’
**********
‘MacDonald? This is Fortinbras, up at the manor. I have a job for you…Yes, right away. Good day!’
**********
‘Good afternoon Vicar. What can I do for you?’
‘I'm terribly sorry. An unexpected gust of wind appears to have caught my ball and precipitated it through the roof of your greenhouse. I hope that no-one was hurt.’
‘Happily, Sir, we are uninjured. I see that you are golfing again. If I may be so bold as to ask…Where did you eventually locate your golf clubs?’
‘I haven't found them yet. I have searched everywhere, but my wife is a cleverer woman than I. She seems to have this fixation in her head that the inexplicable accidents, which occur from time to time on the golf course, are a result of incompetence on my part. Extraordinary idea, but there you have it.’
‘Yes, Sir. Terribly vexing for you, I'm sure.’
‘Actually, these are the Colonel's clubs, which he so generously donated to the parish jumble sale. I just thought that I would take them through their paces, before offering them for sale on the auction block. I should deeply regret if anyone purchased them, in good faith, and found them lacking somehow in quality.’
‘An admirable idea, and one which reinforces the high regard that the English people have for their clergy.’
‘Yes…well, I thought that I would look in. I hope that it will be all right…about the roof, I mean.’
‘Don't let it cause you any concern. The situation is well in hand. Have a good day Sir, and God bless you.’
Perspective
In the recent snows, which were unusually persistent for our normally moderate climate, I had an interesting reaction, especially compared to those around me. I found myself walking home in the winter wonderland and breaking out into uncontrollable laughter at intervals all the way home. Most of the comments I have heard from others have been more Grinch-like.
Now I am not typically the one expressing delight in the face of gloom. On the continuum from Eeyore to Pollyanna, I lean moderately towards the Eeyore side. I am not a pessimist, but I'm usually aware of the footsteps of impending doom. In any case, as someone eloquently expressed it, a pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist. This made my reaction puzzling until I factored in perspective.
I used to live out in the county with the coyotes and other furry woodland creatures. I lived in a house—I want to make that clear. I didn't want to imply that I was Grizzly Adams, eating squirrels and such-like, although I did have to contend with a woodpecker who kept on trying to eat the house, (immediately outside my bedroom window in the wee hours). With a 45 minute commute (in good weather) and some formidable hills, snow was considered with much trepidation. There were times that I couldn’t make it down off the hill and there was one time that I had to crash at a friend’s house in town when freezing rain made the roads impossibly impassable. I crashed to avoid a crash—cue ironic music.
Not having to drive made all the difference. I currently live within easy walking distance of work, and even though exercise is bad for you I can walk in a pinch. While driving, I can actually negotiate snowy roads with some confidence, as long as I didn’t have to share the road with people who don’t believe in the laws of physics. I remember a particularly harrowing journey from Portland to Seattle when severe winter weather converted the journey into an epic 12 hour trek. There was a stretch of road near Olympia where freezing rain had turned the roadway into a skating rink. As I crept cautiously along at 10 miles an hour, I was constantly passed by brain dead S.U.V. drivers doing 50, apparently blissfully unaware of the vehicles (one every few hundred yards) who had ended in the ditch. At a rough guess, some 90 to 95% of the wrecks were S.U.V.s.
I’m not even that stressed when someone else is doing the driving. When I was young, living in a country where traffic is always an adventure, I always wanted to sit in the front seat of the bus. I never understood why my Mom wanted to sit further back. I think her philosophy was that if we were going to die, she would just as soon not have that much warning. When our driver was racing alongside another bus, on a narrow two-lane road (over hills and around blind corners), sending motorcycles and bicycles into the ditch in desperate fits of self-preservation, all I felt was mild interest and surprise. I’m not saying I would have the same indifference today, older and hopefully wiser, but I would still be less concerned then if I was doing the driving myself. Perspective is everything.
Now I am not typically the one expressing delight in the face of gloom. On the continuum from Eeyore to Pollyanna, I lean moderately towards the Eeyore side. I am not a pessimist, but I'm usually aware of the footsteps of impending doom. In any case, as someone eloquently expressed it, a pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist. This made my reaction puzzling until I factored in perspective.
I used to live out in the county with the coyotes and other furry woodland creatures. I lived in a house—I want to make that clear. I didn't want to imply that I was Grizzly Adams, eating squirrels and such-like, although I did have to contend with a woodpecker who kept on trying to eat the house, (immediately outside my bedroom window in the wee hours). With a 45 minute commute (in good weather) and some formidable hills, snow was considered with much trepidation. There were times that I couldn’t make it down off the hill and there was one time that I had to crash at a friend’s house in town when freezing rain made the roads impossibly impassable. I crashed to avoid a crash—cue ironic music.
Not having to drive made all the difference. I currently live within easy walking distance of work, and even though exercise is bad for you I can walk in a pinch. While driving, I can actually negotiate snowy roads with some confidence, as long as I didn’t have to share the road with people who don’t believe in the laws of physics. I remember a particularly harrowing journey from Portland to Seattle when severe winter weather converted the journey into an epic 12 hour trek. There was a stretch of road near Olympia where freezing rain had turned the roadway into a skating rink. As I crept cautiously along at 10 miles an hour, I was constantly passed by brain dead S.U.V. drivers doing 50, apparently blissfully unaware of the vehicles (one every few hundred yards) who had ended in the ditch. At a rough guess, some 90 to 95% of the wrecks were S.U.V.s.
I’m not even that stressed when someone else is doing the driving. When I was young, living in a country where traffic is always an adventure, I always wanted to sit in the front seat of the bus. I never understood why my Mom wanted to sit further back. I think her philosophy was that if we were going to die, she would just as soon not have that much warning. When our driver was racing alongside another bus, on a narrow two-lane road (over hills and around blind corners), sending motorcycles and bicycles into the ditch in desperate fits of self-preservation, all I felt was mild interest and surprise. I’m not saying I would have the same indifference today, older and hopefully wiser, but I would still be less concerned then if I was doing the driving myself. Perspective is everything.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Random thought
I was watching the DVD of Prince Caspian and wondering how my friend (who doesn't deal well with mice) handled Reepicheep, or for that matter Stuart Little, or even Ratty in The Wind in the Willows. Kinda makes you go "hmmm."
… thinking of Nat King Cole
I realized that some of my favorite musicians are singer/piano players; players like Jamie Cullum, Louis Rose and Diana Krall (to name just a few). There are even singers who typically didn't perform in that format, but they were competent players. Carmen McRae was no slouch as a piano player and I love the part of the set when she would sit down at the keyboard and accompany herself.
I suppose part of my interest is that I aspire (in my own way) to be one of those rare entities. The other cool thing is that you can have a musical conversation with yourself. The only closer musical collaboration would be with a sibling. The brother/sister groups out there succeed partly on that level.
It's technically a tricky thing. When I play piano or drums and sing, (or sing and play piano or drums), the multi-tasking gets pretty intense and part of what I do must be semi-automatic. The mechanics have to be really solid or something goes out the door. When I'm doing that in a group, there is another level of awareness that needs to be there so I communicate with the other players as well. At the highest level though, when things are really locking together, I forget about the mechanics of playing and singing and reach deep into the emotion and heart of what I'm doing.
Nat King Cole is really the model. His popularity as a singer has overshadowed the fact that he was a fantastic piano player! I have a very limited sampling of his recordings. I need to make some investments in that area—just doing my part to enhance the economic stimulus.
I suppose part of my interest is that I aspire (in my own way) to be one of those rare entities. The other cool thing is that you can have a musical conversation with yourself. The only closer musical collaboration would be with a sibling. The brother/sister groups out there succeed partly on that level.
It's technically a tricky thing. When I play piano or drums and sing, (or sing and play piano or drums), the multi-tasking gets pretty intense and part of what I do must be semi-automatic. The mechanics have to be really solid or something goes out the door. When I'm doing that in a group, there is another level of awareness that needs to be there so I communicate with the other players as well. At the highest level though, when things are really locking together, I forget about the mechanics of playing and singing and reach deep into the emotion and heart of what I'm doing.
Nat King Cole is really the model. His popularity as a singer has overshadowed the fact that he was a fantastic piano player! I have a very limited sampling of his recordings. I need to make some investments in that area—just doing my part to enhance the economic stimulus.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
