April

You teach them to read…

I didn’t quite think through some of the ramifications of teaching Woo to read when we started out. Actually we didn’t exactly teach him, we supported as he pretty much taught himself how to read. We did help him, as did N at day care, but he lead the process and progressed at a much faster rate than we anticipated. He amazed us by reading his first words by his third birthday, and chapter books by his fifth. He is rather advanced in his reading as a result, and we try to keep up with him.

He doesn’t just read books, he devours them. There aren’t really libraries like we have at home, so we have developed a pattern of visiting the closest bookstore about once a week. He sits and methodically goes through the books, selecting all that strike his fancy, and letting us filter down until there is a pile of three to five new books. Thankfully books here are reasonable, or we would be broke!

We had a dry spell recently, when we didn’t get to the bookstore for a few weeks. During this time he read and re-read many of his books, but also turned to the kitchen, and started to read my cookbooks. They now sport many a bookmark on recipes that he would like for us to make together, which actually helps with meal planning. A couple are still missing, but I am sure they are tucked away in his room. This also led to some fun experimenting in the kitchen, with only one real failure, the apple milkshake, and one jar of oddly matched spices that he mixed up for me to use in recipes that call for curry powder*.

My sister and brother-in-law gifted him with the entire Roald Dahl collection for Christmas this year, a completely awesome gift. He was intimidated at first, and decided that he didn’t want them. We quickly realized that he was a little lot overwhelmed by the size of the collection and the sheer number of words, so we tucked them away in our room. He still knew where they were, and would come to flip through them most mornings, so I offered to read one to him in early January. I chose The Giraffe and the Pelly and me because it was the thinnest, and looked silly enough. He was hooked right away, and read ahead in the book after I left him, then finished it on his own a day or so later. He now comes to our room every week or so to select a new Dahl treasure to read. He asks us to read parts of them, some of the time, but he tends to burn through them quickly on his own.

The book that he chose most recently was George’s Marvellous Medicine. He read it with much glee, and then asked that I read several chapters with him one night at bed time. We started with George’s creation of this magical medicine, the chapter where he basically throw everything, the good, the bad, and the poisonous, into a pot to serve as medicine for his evil grandma. He is enjoying this a little too much, and warning bells go off in my head. We spend a long time discussing why that would be a dangerous thing to do, and how Woo should never consider touching half of that stuff, let alone feeding it to anyone, before moving on to the moment when Grandma gets the meds. He seems to understand that the book is silly fun, and should not translate to real life.

This morning I woke to an eerie silence in the house. I knew that the lils were up, as I had already been shown the marker manicures that they gave each other. When my queries as to what they were doing were met with silence, I headed down stairs to the kitchen. There were spices everywhere, a pile of wet tea towels, a bottle filled with murky liquid, and two lils, looking both guilty and pleased with themselves. I looked at the bottle closely, and it appeared to be mostly water and chillies, with dashes of oregano, nutmeg, and rosemary for good measure. As we cleaned and talked this through, Woo repeatedly assured me that this was not a medicine like George had made, it was merely a potion. I shudder to think how close Goose was to getting a dose of that spicy potion!

He has now moved on to The Twits, where Mr. and Mrs. Twit play horrible practical jokes on each other. Tonight Willy discovered that in chapter four, she serves him worm spaghetti for dinner. I can see where this is going… Maybe there is something to be said about selecting age appropriate reading for your lils. It’s not about the difficulty of the words or that the content is too mature for them, it’s so that parents can be prepared for all the naughty things that they learn!

*Curry powder seems to be a pretty North American thing, so I have a mixture of spices that includes coriander, cumin, turmeric, chillies, cinnamon, sugar, ground ginger…. That I use in some recipes. Guess he thought my mixture was lacking!

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April

I thought we’d made up our minds

When we first moved here, we hired a few helpers in the hopes that they would, well, help with the transitions. Our driver, gardener, and maid have all proven to be just what we needed – and then some! We were incredibly lucky that all three just fell into our laps as they did and are very thankful. We had tried a cook as well and were really disappointed when she didn’t work out. I had been especially excited to work with her, but the brief experience left us firmly convinced that having me cook for the family was the perfect choice for us.

Fast forward to this past weekend when, over dinner, some friends asked if we wanted to hire their cook on while they were away in Thailand for the week. Two factors made me say yes without hesitating; the fact that they have spoken highly of her on more than one occasion, and that the lils are off school this week. Not preparing meals in the afternoon gives me an hour or three where I can hang out with them. As much as I love to cook, I prefer to hang with them.

Over the weekend, but without actually meeting up with their cook, we worked out a tentative start for Tuesday. We planned meals accordingly, and talked it up to the lils. They were a little gun shy, but progressed from outright resistance to excitement when we explained that they would be able to talk to her and let her know what they liked and didn’t. Woo made a special request for Palak paneer, and I made sure I’d have the fixings for it for our first meal. He, in particular, was over the moon.

The past twenty-four hours have been pretty much a train wreck for me. I was up until about three AM for no apparent reason, then awakened twice by each lil in the next two hours. I woke up cranky and tired, Willy let me sleep until the last possible second, but that was only a little after seven. The lils were cranky and tired, I was cranky and tired, and we needed to go to the grocery store. I’d promised paneer for supper, and that was a time consuming promise, on what was likely to be a tough day. It was a recipe for disaster. As we were running out the door, I made a quick call to our cook to confirm a start time, and she let me know that she wanted to start today, as her plans had been cancelled.

In an instant, our moods all lightened. The trip to the grocery was a breeze, we laughed and fooled around, there were no demands on our time other than lunch. When our cook arrived, the lils were SO excited. They hugged her on first meeting her, and insisted on showing her the house before letting her even see the kitchen. Once they settled down a bit, they were allowed to join and “help” in the kitchen before we took off for a leisurely swim. We arrived home AT dinner time and sat down to an excellent meal, that had just a hint of spice, but was completely tolerable for the lils (they get killed by chillies here). I didn’t think that we wanted a cook, but one day in to this fun diversion, I am reconsidering…

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March

The tiffin box

One of the things that I wanted to see in action when we moved here was the tiffin. I had learned of them a number of years ago through a news clip on a tiffin service that was being offered in Toronto. This company provided hot lunches, for delivery or pick-up, and it came neatly packaged in a multi-layered metal container like the one pictured above. It was my understanding that the word “tiffin” referred to the container, and I really wanted to see if they are actually used in India.

It became apparent to me, just days into our stay in India that not only are tiffins used, they are EVERYWHERE. We mostly see workers carrying them, but there are also a number of school children who carry them to school, as well as caterers and food cart vendors (or wallas) who use gigantic ones. Most have two, three, or four uniform containers that seal as they stack on top of each other. They are held together by a latch on each side, and seem to be liquid tight. Our driver, Subbu, even has an insulated sleeve for his, so that he can keep his meal either hot or cold.

I have now learned that the meal itself (usually lunch) is actually the tiffin, and the stacked container is the tiffin box. Traditionally, these tiffins consist of a dal, a curry, some rice or bread (naan, roti, paratha…) and possibly a raita or a dessert. Some cities in India, like Mumbai, even have a vast network of tiffin wallas, who deliver hot lunches from home to the men who are at work. I am not sure if Bangalore has such a network, but I am sure that Willy would love to have a hot lunch from home delivered to his desk.

I have fallen in love with the idea of the tiffin box, and know that I will be bringing one home to Canada, so that I can bring my own tiffin to work with me. Early on in Tamara and Chris’ recent visit, Tamara and I were talking about them, and she mentioned that she might like to have one if we could find one that was reasonably priced and not too big or small. This past Tuesday was their last day in Bangalore, so I offered to pick one up for her if I could find one while out shopping. The lils and I were pleased to find that our grocery store had a good selection, and we picked one up. Actually, we picked three up, as Woo and Goose decided that they MUST have them as well.

They can’t wait to bring their lunches and snacks to school in their new tiffin boxes. In the meantime, they demand that their meals be served in them at home!

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March

Wordless wednesday – Agra Fort

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March

My defenses are down

The first time I saw a cockroach in our house, I freaked out ~~a little bit~~ a lot. They are the one bug that really gets to me, my nemesis, my kryptonite. It was in our bathroom, the one attached to our bedroom! I called Willy and had him dispose of it, then glared at him and emphatically stated that “THIS WAS NOT PART OF THE DEAL”, even though I had had an inkling. Based on what I read and knew of this climate, I knew that I would likely have a couple in our house. The problem that I was having was that I had forgotten how big they could be in a tropical climate.

So big that that night, I lay in bed worrying that one would attack the littles while they slept. Irrational, yes, but it was THAT big, and it flew! I got through the night, and the next few weeks without seeing anything, and I started to relax. Until I got out of bed in the middle of the night and saw a black blob in the bathroom. Not having my glasses on, I moved in a little closer to see what it was, figuring that one of the lils had thrown a sock in the tub. I got just close enough to see what it was and it scurried. Away from me, thankfully. Given that it was the middle of the night, and I could see that it could not climb out of the tub, I put on my big girl panties and went to the kitchen to get a container to trap it in.

But they fly.

When I returned to the bathroom, it had escaped the tub and was on the ledge, scurrying to the dark of the bedroom. That tupperware flew out of my hands and somehow managed to trap it. Knowing that it was safe for the night, I eventually got back to sleep, and happily let Willy dispose of it in the morning. We’d been in the house for two months at this point, and had had two of these nasty buggers. I hoped it wasn’t the start of a trend.

A few weeks went by, and I started to relax. Then one night I walked in to the bathroom, unsuspecting, and it was. This one was fast, and moved to the door and into the darkness of OUR BEDROOM. Willy was summoned, and tried to catch it, but it hid under the too large to move wardrobe. We went to bed, but I couldn’t stop worrying about it, so Willy offered to get up and flush it out. He was successful and I was able to sleep.

Our last visitor came about six weeks ago, and made a rather startling entrance. We were sitting in the living room and something thudded on the floor near us. It seems this one decided to commit suicide off the second floor and ruin our weekly wine night. At least it was easy to catch, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Lately the fact that it has been so long since one of these big buggers showed up has been starting to bother me. I think that we are due so I have been doing my best prepare myself. I walk into the bedroom, turn on the light, then go to the bathroom, turn on the light. I lean my head in and peek, venturing in only when the coast is clear. This was working perfectly till the freaking light in the bathroom burnt out this week. The light that is located on the ceiling, at the highest point in the house, in the house with no ladders. It’s likely only twenty feet up, but it seems like eighty.

The back-up light is switched inside the bathroom, BEHIND the door. There is no way to turn it on without going in the room. This has messed me up to the point where I am paralyzed, and stand in the doorway trying to decide how to get in the bathroom without going in the bathroom to turn on the light. There is much hesitation and several aborted attempts before I actually make it in, only to forget why I am actually there in the first place, or to realize that I forgot to turn on the bedroom light first, so anything could be scurrying into the bedroom, now that I have left it as a safe haven. I try not to think about them, but at night, my mind goes into overdrive.

So I am happy to keep all the geckos in the house, as I am told they should help. I just won’t let my rational side see that the geckos are all pretty much smaller than the roaches.

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March

So poor

There has been a lot of talk in the local media this week about the poverty rates in India. The poverty is one of the hardest things that I have faced since moving to India. Almost 40 percent of the population is believed to live below the poverty line and many of those live in slums in the larger cities. Cities like Bangalore.

When Willy and I first arrived here, we were informed that the “poverty line” for India was set at approximately 35 rupees per day for urban areas, and 25 rupees for rural areas. These amounts translate into roughly 70¢ and 50¢ Canadian. Those numbers continue to shock us both, as we can’t fathom being able to live on $15 – $20 A MONTH. Yes, the cost of living is much lower, but not that much lower. We see it daily, from the moment we step outside of our community, our little bubble.

There are small and large areas of slum dwellings pretty much everywhere you go, everywhere you look. There are a number of families that squat in an open lot between the parking lot of the lils’ school and the lane that we walk down to the school building. They live in shacks that have no electricity, no running water, but they have the luxury of a few feet between their house and their neighbour`s, something that this not seen in the large and packed slums that we also see in our travels. Official estimates say that approximately 10% of Bangalore’s population lives in slums, but I can see that the numbers are higher, much higher (by our definition). It is generally accepted that 30-40% of the population live in slums. Bangalore is a city of 9.5 million people, which means that at least 3 million people live in slums. That is more than three times the population of Ottawa. It`s sobering. I know too that we have been protected, that we haven’t seen the worst of it. We catch glimpses of it when we travel to the poorest states, like Uttar Pradesh, where Agra and the Taj Mahal are located. Or travel to other large cities like Delhi and Mumbai, where 50 – 60 % of the population lives in slums.

Poverty has been in the national news this week, as the latest figures on the percentage of the population deemed to be poor have been released. It seems that the numbers have dramatically dropped over the last five years, and officials state there has been a decrease of almost 7 per cent in the national poverty rate. In five years. This decline is more significant in my state, Karnataka, where the drop is said to be closer to 10 per cent. This appears to be a substantial development at first glance. When one delves just a little bit further, they see that this reported drop is tied to a similar drop in the figures used to determine the “poverty line”, a move away from the anecdotal figures that we have been told, and away from the UN determination for poverty. The new current figures use a rate of 28 rs (urban) and 22 rs (rural).

I don’t see how this arbitrary lowering helps the poor in India, other than telling almost 100 million people that they are no longer poor, and that they very likely will lose the meagre subsidies and coupons that they received when they were “poor”. There is also little that I can do in my time here, poverty India is systemic, is generational, is structural. It hurts in ways that I never anticipated.

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March

Wordless Wednesday – to market, to market

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March

Alone

I sat and watched the sun rise this morning. There were no distractions, no interruptions. I was alone, and I loved it. I was alone, so I just took the time to watch it creep up in the sky, filling my world with a brilliant and warm red glow. On any other day I would have chosen to stay in bed, to grab a few extra minutes of sleep, but today was not any other day. This morning I was sitting on an airplane, waiting to fly to Delhi and then travel on to Agra, to once again visit the Taj Mahal.

We were here just two weeks ago. While I loved viewing the Taj with my family, and would be completely satisfied if I never visited again, I am selfishly excited that I have the opportunity to be here again, and drink it all in. I am traveling with friends, but I am also alone.

As I watched the sun set on the Taj tonight, I loved every minute. I was close enough to appreciate the beauty and majesty, yet not close enough to touch it, that will come tomorrow. So I just enjoyed the moment. There were no distractions, no cries of “mama”, no little people to watch out for. I was able to take the time to bask, to compose my thoughts and my shots, to take the pictures that I wanted to take, not the pictures I managed to squeeze in. It was a wonderful moment, evening, day, and I will repeat it tomorrow.

While I miss Willy and the lils terribly, and would love for them to experience Agra again, I will take this one for me. Alone.

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March

The dew nut tree

We are quite happy that the lils have great imaginations. They keep themselves entertained on long flights, long waits for toys to arrive from home, and many a long drive in and around Bangalore and beyond. They also keep up entertained, which is an added bonus.

About a month after we moved here, I began to hear the lils talk about a number of new things, one of them being dew nuts. I didn’t really ask, as I figured that they were either imaginary or a passing fad. They kept talking about them, and I got more curious, but they were never around when I asked. Then one day Woo and Goose were making a concoction with odds and sods that they found in the park, and they called it “dew nut soup”. I asked for some, mostly so I could see what it was. They served my portion, and the main ingredient was this:

None of us knew where they came from, they were just lying on the ground. They seemed to be pretty common, as they were in a few spots in the park, and near our house.

A few weeks ago I was admiring the beautiful flowering tree in our front yard:

When I looked passed the flowers and saw DEW NUTS!

Now we know where they come from, and the lils are excited to have a seemingly endless supply, to cook with, break apart and examine, and “feed” to the neighbourhood bugs and cats. I still don’t know what they are called, but I am happy with my pretty tree and the joy it brings us all, for different reasons.

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March

Plan B

I am really lucky to have two great friends from home visiting this week and next. We have been planning for their visit since about a week after Willy and I announced that we were moving to Bangalore, so this has been a LONG time coming. I am really enjoying their company, and think they are coping pretty well with having to hang out with me!

The visit has forced me into the role of tour guide, which I am not entirely comfortable with. Willy is an excellent tour guide. He reads the blurbs, gets the audio guide, or has someone provide him with a guided tour, then REMEMBERS it all and passes it on to whomever he next shares the place with. He also has an uncanny ability to know exactly where he is and how to get to where you want to be without needing maps, GPS`s, or quickly and quietly ascertaining which is his left or right hand*. Sadly, he has to work (hello, sugar daddy!) so I am that gal for this trip.

Thankfully, I had an ace up my sleeve for this trip, in that I have spent very little time exploring the city markets that are scattered about. I was saving them for Tamara and Chris, as they too are photographers, and I knew they would be happy to walk around and shoot with me. About four weeks ago, I decided that I wanted to take them to Russell Market, one of the oldest markets in Bangalore. One week after that, a large fire broke out overnight and caused significant damage to the building.

I was sad to learn of that, but put the thought out of my mind until yesterday, when we were planning our week. They were keen to market, so I asked around and was told that the market was expected to re-open this morning! We though it was perfect timing and set off. When we arrived, I was clear that the market was indeed operational, but few stalls were open, and about three quarters of the stalls were under repair. I know I felt let down and could tell that Tamara and Chris were hoping for a little bit more.

Thinking, I stepped to the side and whipped out my phone to determine that one of the other major markets (K.R. Market) was reasonably close. We headed to the car and verified that Subbu knew exactly where we wanted to go. Upon arrival it was clear that we were not to be disappointed. The sights, the smells, the bustle and the sounds all amounted to a bit of sensory overload and a photographer’s paradise. We happily watched and shot away the next hour or so. Thank goodness I had been there before and was able to use it as a back-up plan!

*yes, I am THAT directionally challenged.