This weekend I almost rode a Ferris wheel, checked out the local drive-in movie theatre, and experienced my first Mexican food in India. Let me qualify each of these experiences before going into further detail: the Ferris wheel consisted of 4 flat wooden sections which were rotated by a man pushing them, the maximum height being about 10 ft., the drive-in movie theatre was actually relatively legit, the only drawback being that all the films screened are in Tamil, and the Mexican food tasted like cheap, frozen pizza, was prepared by men in tall chef hats, and upset my stomach.
Let me now situate these experiences within their greater contexts.
The Mexican food scenario was the first to occur. After returning from my three-hour Spanish class Jenn and I decided to try a Mexican food joint we had heard about, in fact the only one we had heard about. I’d heard from a German that the food was decent, but I’m starting to understand that Germans have no bearing on how good ethnic food should taste, at least not once it’s been Americanized—I think it has something to do with having a bland native cuisine with similarly poor preparation of foreign foods. So we hopped in a rickshaw and headed downtown, making sure to keep our expectations as low as possible and, realistically, not even think about how GOOD Mexican food actually tastes. Upon our arrival we were greeted by an African-American midget in a sombrero, a nice reminder of the daily ironies encountered in India. It’s important to understand that if one thinks African-Americans are rare in New Mexico, in Chennai there really might be only 7, and one of them is a midget door man at “Don Pepes”; gives you an idea of how many Mexicans are around. Skipping ahead, and skipping the virgin margaritas, we ordered. Jenn tried to order nachos and tacos, but the waiter told her they were the same thing and she should choose otherwise. No Shit—all Mexican food is the same thing! And at Don Pepes all Mexican food tastes like those Mexican pizzas at Taco Bell without the addictive fast-food flavoring. We also both had minor stomachaches throughout the night, not that unusual of Mexican cuisine, but usually a worthy payoff. Regardless, it was worth the black-midget doorman encounter and the Indian kitchen staff all wearing tall French chef hats, even if none of them had ever tasted Mexican food only seen pictures of it—the presentation was right on.
After a very lazy Sunday morning spent recovering from the food and drinks the night before and reading the newspaper Jenn somehow managed to subscribe us to after riding her bike down some small alleys and talking to various odd men, I don’t really understand it, we headed south on our bikes. When imagining bikes don’t envision road bikes or mountain bikes, but slightly condensed cruiser bikes with slightly harder-than-desirable seats and heavier-than-desirable frames. The whole bike scene here in Chennai isn’t very developed and things like gears and adjustable seats aren’t yet in vogue. On the plus side roadside bike repair and maintenance shops appear about every 200 yards and I can get my tires inflated just around the corner for about 2 cents.
Every time we’ve endeavored to ride our bikes beyond the neighborhood bounds we’ve been rewarded with pleasant, or at least unexpected, surprises. This time around we found a grocery store that carried yogurt with real fruit in it, Dr. Pepper (previously thought to be a lost cause, still searching for tonic water), and other goodies like veggie crackers. Grocery shopping is something I’m still very, very distant from mastering but I’ve improved from days past in which I would check out with two readymade Indian food boil-and-pour packets, a loaf of wheat bread that looked white, and a look like I’d just been put through a room full of funny mirrors. . Basically you have to diversify and simplify and buy things that require significant preparation, or live with people who will cook and just chip in monetarily; I fall somewhere in-between with my main contribution being eggs-and-potatoes breakfast for dinner and lets-get-creative veggie sandwiches.
We did however have a destination in mind today on our ride south—the Beach Drive-In Movie Theatre. After working on a drive-in documentary for six months last year research had led me to believe that drive-ins in other countries were very rare, but Chennai possesses one with real pole speakers and some variety of a concession stand…amazing really. It even has a “seating area” where people who don’t have cars (a very high percentage) can comfortably view the film under the stars. Unfortunately all the films are in Tamil and most likely have plots revolving around predictability and prolonged song-and-dance performances. Either way it made me feel like a little bit of what American used to be…was now in India, and maybe even something worth having made the trip. On the ride home we happened upon a Chinese food restaurant by the side of the road in which each table had it’s own personal gazebo and exclusive waiter and the food was actually really good, so I must amend my prior assertion that no foreign cuisines are prepared to my liking here—Chinese is now attainable. And so is pizza, with the Dominoes and Pizza Hut actually significantly tastier than their counterparts in the US, something to do with the fresh factor here in India.
And lastly, Sunday evening at Elliott’s beach, our neighborhood beach located about twenty-minutes walk from our residence. As far as I can tell during the day the beach is left for the birds and dogs and other creatures that can better tolerate the heat, but at night the people emerge and gather, especially on Sunday night. Elliott’s beach is about ½ km long and maybe 100 m wide. The sand is clean enough to feel comfortable relaxing on, and no one brings a beach towel. There are chip and corn and fish hawkers and a main walk down the beach with tiny Ferris wheel rides and shoot the balloon stands. I took a seat near the ocean to observe young couples and small family groups and just as I was starting to forget where I was various groups of Tamil men broke into fragments of song that lasted for about 20 minutes, which turned out to be quite a pleasant surprise. It’s not often you get a gathering of people who all feel comfortable enough to lay in the sand and sing across the beach with various degrees of decibel and tone.
I almost convinced Jenn to ride the mini-Ferris wheel with me but in our newfound cheapness we decided 10 rupees was too much, which translates to not wanting to spend 25 cents. We get paid in rupees so we might as well spend according to them, right? Plus, there’s always next Sunday. On the walk home I came upon a place that serves Boba tea, you hear Zach? They have Boba here, although my drink came with fruit chunks rather than tapioca, but receiving something resembling what I hoped for was satisfying enough. Strangely, instead of calling it “Boba tea” here they call it “Singapore bubble tea.”
Next weekend we have Monday off due to a government-sponsored statewide strike, which apparently can turn violent if not abided by. And apparently it’s not really a good idea for us to leave the house. The strike has something to do with disturbing an underwater Hindu holy site between India and Sri Lanka and reeks strongly of the convoluted and abstruse religious conflicts one finds in Israel or South Carolina.
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2 comments:
But do they have NEW Mexican food in Chinai?...You can tell it is NEW Mexican if you are greated at the door by a wealthy old woman playing with crystals, or possibly by someone who looks totally Mexican, is named Gomez Martinez, but doesn't speak a word of Spanish, or possibly by a harried waitress who asks 'Red or Green?' even before seating you.
Ari, when was the last time you had a bagel? I have a pretty good bagel recipe (though it's oat free), so you could make your housemates bagel-eggs for dinner. They're oat free though.
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