GOOAAAAALLLLL!!!!!

Not a mirage!

After a 7 hour round trip bus ride to Chennai yesterday, we now have Brie, Emmental, and goat cheese, Bonne Maman apricot jam and real bread! Thank you thank you IT boom and rise of the Indian middle class!!!

Similar to what happens on a hiking trip, much of our thoughts and discussions revolve around food -- memories of food, stories about food, lists of desired foods, and strategies of how we could procure these foods. We even talk excitedly of how exceptional airplane food tasted on our trip to Japan, and have spent time longingly browsing pictures of airplane meals on the internet.

The establishment of Hyundai and Samsung plants in Chennai may be the most fortuitous events to have occurred in modern Indian history, at least to us. We became aware of this during a book-procuring trip to a Chennai mall a couple of months ago. Like apparitions, we caught sight of ACTUAL KOREAN PEOPLE. It was unmistakable. All men, there were short ones and tall ones, happy ones and brooding ones, all wandering about with that characteristic Korean Man Gait: half stomping-half trudging their feet on the ground with toes pointed outward, lower body moving slightly ahead of upper body, in white socks and flip flops, or sneakers with the back part crushed down to render their sneakers into slip-ons.

We were fixated on them, and started salivating because of the one cardinal rule that governs Korean people -- Korean people cannot live without Korean food, and these beacons of hope would lead us straight to glorious mounds of it. We asked them where to find it, and sure enough they told us where it was.

Also not a mirage! Pan-chan, including Kim-chi, at In Seoul Restaurant. We ate in disbelief.

With this information in hand, we headed back to Chennai a few weeks later to find "In Seoul" restaurant. We entered and found the most glorious sight -- Korean men bowing to each other or huddled in groups over Korean food, sweating and slurping and holding chopsticks in the air as a flatscreen Samsung television aired a Korean reporter barking the Korean news. Score! We practically high-fived each other in glee. We sat down and ate until bursting. We learned from the owner that between Hyundai and Samsung, there are about 1500 Koreans living in Chennai presently, so business is booming.

After a month, we were due for more Korean food, so we returned yesterday for Round 2. We wanted to come home with some booty, so prior to our trip we Googled "gourmet food Chennai" and discovered that there is a small but emerging market for higher end Western foods, offered by the store "Maison des Gourmets." It was a small but impressive store filled with, as The Hindu paper describes, "exotic" items such as European cheeses, crusty breads, and real chocolate. Also on their pristine shelves were "exotic" items such as French's mustard and cans of Heinz baked beans. We bought enough cheese to last us for a month, loaves of bread, apricot jam, a bar of Lindt chocolate, and best of all, the owner's phone number and arrangements to have these items delivered to our home in Vellore in the future.

After the long and crowded bus ride home, we sat down to dinner at 9pm with what may have looked like a simple picnic, but to us looked fit for a king.

Eating happily and heartily among groups of Korean men. Three cheers for Hyundai and Samsung!

Ladies who lunch. Most likely, wives of Hyundai or Samsung staff stationed in Chennai.

Brie Cheese, we award you with an honorary mustache for faithful service to our tastebuds and bellies.

"My dearest Monsieur Brie, how I longed for your touch."

Tea and Mustaches

Give it up for Team Moustache!!

A month ago, we escaped to the mountains to celebrate Alex's birthday. We went to Coonoor, one of several hill towns in the Nilgiri Mountains to which people will flock in droves to escape the heat. It is about 300 miles from the Dutch Oven a.k.a. Vellore. The most popular time to visit is in May, when the heat in southern India is at its worst. The Nilgiris in July is considered to be too chilly for the Indians we've spoken to. Despite that, we were skeptical of how cool it would actually be; as we've mentioned before, Vellore natives wear jackets, scarves, and hats whenever the temperature dips below the 80s. Much to our pleasure, the higher elevation did bring with it refreshingly cool weather that we had only dreamed about. Those jackets in the picture up there -- now those are legit!

We started our journey late one night, wearing headlamps and dragging (not rolling) our wheeled suitcase through dirt and rocks to catch an overnight train from Vellore. We arrived at Mettapalayam, at the base of the mountains, early in the morning to transfer to the much anticipated toy train which ascends the mountain. The thought of riding in an authentic steam train was exciting for us, as well as the Indians aboard. There was raucous whooping each time we entered a tunnel, and groups of men burst spontaneously into Backstreet Boys and Bollywood songs. The train, built in the days of the British Raj, was incredibly uncomfortable -- the seats seemed to be built to 3:4 scale. My knees jammed into the seat in front of me, and Alex had to sit entirely sideways. The views, however were worth it. Banana tree groves and coconut palms gave way to fir trees, cooler air, and the electric green vistas of tea plantations.

Ascending the mountain. The steam train actually makes that "chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo" sound!

Monkeys greet and terrorize passengers at an interim stop, where everyone floods out to stretch their legs and buy snacks. They are probably conditioned to think of food when they hear the arrival of the train.

The first glimpse of tea fields.

A woman enjoys the view. On the way back down, we made sure to reserve first class -- actual breathing room.

Water buffalo meandering through the tea fields.

A tea picker.

Mounds of tea leaves at a tea plantation.

We were the Bubba Gump of teas. One afternoon we sat down for a tea tasting. From left to right: silver tip, golden bud, frost, hand rolled, green, black, and CTC (crush, tear, curl) tea. Believe it or not, these are all made from the same tea bush. Only the methods of picking, rolling, or drying yield the different colors and tastes. The silver tip tea is picked by "expert pickers" before dawn, prior to the buds opening up. It was the least bitter.

Happy Birthday to Alex!!
Custom made chocolate cake delivered via room service in the poshest hotel in town? $5. Wearing a fleece? Priceless.

We and the few Indians who dared to test the extreme weather of the Nilgiris in July visited the highest peak in the region. Given the chill at that altitude, countless vendors selling colorful fleece hats welcomed us at the peak. You had to buy one if you didn't want to be ostracized.

Fuchsia and lavender or yellow and brown? What's your pleasure?

"I'll only wear it if it matches."

A street tuf in powder pink.

"Me, too!"

Normally, we'd rather pour cleaning acid into our eyes than think of making a fire. Here, it was not a crazy thought. The smell and sound of crackling wood reminded us of home.

Locals eating lunch in the fields.

And more tea fields. A welcome change from the dust bowl of Vellore. The locals still speak with excitement about the filming of "A Passage to India" in Coonoor twenty years ago. Our driver spoke proudly of giving rides to some of the crew.

Alex gets trailed by some friends.

If you squint, you can see me.

Like many of our other random encounters in India, one day we were taking a walk and caught the sight of incredibly handsome, obviously bred and domesticated dogs in someone's yard -- jarring, as we only see packs of strays in Vellore. Anyhow, as we peered through the fence, a girl invited us in to take a look. She was a very precocious 8 year old who spoke excellent English. She carried herself quite elegantly and marched confidently through the grounds as she explained how her parents bred dogs, and proceeded to give us a comprehensive oration on their current stock -- without us really asking. "I have been a child breeder since the age of 3" she finished in soft tones, crossing her arms behind her back and casting her eyes downward to her foot, pointed and tracing the dirt with her toe -- much like a Degas statue of a ballerina -- in feigned humility. Then, she turned around like a whip and screamed at the top of her lungs at one of the whimpering dogs "SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! SHUT YOUR MOUTH OR I WILL BEAT YOU!! ALL OF YOU ARE ASKING FOR A BEATING!! SHUT UP!! IF YOU WANT TO EAT EVER AGAIN THEN SHUT THE HELL UP!!" She then turned politely towards us and continued her docile report with only the best of manners.

"SHUT THE HELL UP OR I WILL BEAT YOU!!"

Nervous laughter -- "Perhaps I can take these puppies from you, devil child?"

Also filed under "scary Indian toys" (see June post). Again, that je ne sais quois. We can't really put a finger on why dog ears on an elephant with fused front and hind legs bothered us so much.

Golf???
An outing in Coonoor.

Is not basking in the glory of clean mountain air and cool temperatures enough for the rejuvenation of my pasty white soul? No. I decided to do one better and finagled my way onto the Wellington Gymkana Golf Club just outside Coonoor. A members-only establishment comprised primarily of retired Indian generals and affluent tea growers, it may be fancy for Coonoor, but remember, we are still in India not Augusta, Georgia. The pro-shop employees wear condom-tight golf pants, the caddies sport flip flops, cows substitute for John Deere tractors, and credit cards are absolutely not accepted. So what!! Let’s tee it up!!

Unfortunately, Jeeyung didn’t allow me to bring my clubs to India, so I rented some antiques for 150 Rs. (about $4), probably commandeered by Indian customs officials over 30 years ago from some unsuspecting Australian tourist. Greens fees cost 200 Rs. ($5), a caddy 80 Rs. ($2) and 2 sleeves of golf balls 400 Rs. ($10). This may well be the last time I pay more for balls than for greens fees! Since I only had a 3 and 5 wood I decided to forego buying tees and play au natural. Who cares? They didn’t even have scorecards!!

The layout of the course mirrored the logic of the incomprehensible Indian road network. The 1st fairway is shared by the 2nd, 3rd, 14th, 17th and 18th holes. So, if you’re not happy with your score the first time, you’ll have ample opportunity to replay the hole. Watch out from above too! This fairway also is home to the Indian Army helicopter pad. Servicing the base up the hill, my caddy told me that the pad is used on a regular basis. Thankfully, that was an immovable obstruction I was able to avoid. Enjoy!

Teeing off on #1. The follow-through was textbook but somehow
the ball went 100 yards to the right near the Tea Fields.

After playing #1 I realized the fairway was nearly
300 yards wide. So for #2 I put a little extra into it.

The Gallery and the Tea Fields.

Ughh!! The ball landed several yards short of the green and fell perilously close to Ganesh's Armpit.
By the grace of Shiva I escaped with a bogey.

If by chance the cow eats your ball, local rules
allow you a free drop without penalty.

Nestled in the valley of these 2000m peaks. The terrain
was more hike than stroll in the park.

Hooker's Nightmare. Relax...focus...don't think about
the hookers. Smooth and steady....hmmmm....hmmmm....

All bent out of shape about the hookers,
I had to step away from the ball to compose myself.

On the green. Trying to put an end to this nightmare. My caddy
was still looking out for the hookers.....

The Gallery, hole #13.

Greenskeeper sweeping with a fir branch. Shirts and shoes are optional. Any comment Judge Smails?

A cow for every hole.

Seriously, for all its foibles this course had some of the most breathtaking vantage points of any place I have played. Plus, there weren't any stuffy old geezers idling in golf carts brandishing a new titanium driver bigger than their head.

Hamburger Smell

Now that Alex has recovered and is back to his old self, we is like peas and carrots again! During a walk the other day, we noticed a pleasant and therefore scary odor. The latter because "pleasant" and "odor" don't go together. here.

"Wait, do you smell that?"
"Hmm ... what is that?"
"It smells like ... hamburger?"
"Hamburger! Mmmmm!"
Silence.
"Ewww!" In unison. Cuz you know it ain't hamburger!!

In food related news, we now discovered POPCORN. Hard to believe it was right under our noses. Back home, sometimes there's a disconnect between food and its origins, even when it's ridiculously obvious. For example, I had at one point thought sushi was a special, magical kind of fish -- certainly not the kind you could cook. I remember placing a piece of sushi in the broiler as an experiement, and being dumbfounded that it cooked, and then tasted like plain old broiled fish.

Along the same lines, popcorn is something you make in the microwave only from packets labelled "popcorn." There must be something mysterious and complex about it, given how expensive it can be -- it can't just be dried kernels of corn, right? But after I eyed a simple bag of corn kernels at the market, a dim light bulb turned on. I brought the five cent packet home, heated it in a large covered pot, and soon heard the undeniable pops of popcorn. Kinda like discovering fire.

Shock and Awe -- it's actually popcorn!! A display of each step of our rudimentary popcorn production.

In totally unrelated news, two weeks ago, we celebrated international ORS (Oral Rehydration Solution) Week! Here's a brief shout out to ORS, an amazingly simple and cheap treatment that has saved millions of lives from diarrheal disease -- Yo work that booty ORS baby you lookin' fine!! Sashay! Sashay! (That's the shout-out).

Hospital staff put on a skit for local mothers and expectant mothers to spread the word on ORS. The woman in the red sari, seated, is holding a fake baby. The woman on the right, in plaid shirt plays her husband -- she drew a mustache onto her face with a marker. You can't play a man without a mustache!

The captivated audience.

The Dengue

Parental Disclosure: We write about this now because we can assure you that Alex is again healthy as ever, in tip top form! So, to our moms and dads who are convinced we are malnourished and ravaged with worms, don’t get alarmed and start arranging medi-vac helicopters!

Milkman says, "Hey, it's only a cow pie! Do you want 1 liter or 2?"
India can be a very dangerous place for a Bubble Boy.

Here’s a quick follow-up to the previous entry. It turns out that Alex had The Dengue. It’s actually called “dengue” but we’re going to call it “The Dengue” for that 19th century air that somehow so eloquently alludes to aspects of our situation. Anyhow, as The Dengue is known to do, Alex’s white blood cell count plummeted, aka he was neutropenic. I found this out when I perused his labs at the hospital, and in any normal situation I would have discussed this with him upon my return home. However, as neutropenia puts you at increased risk of infection -- think Bubble Boy -- and as you can imagine, the last place Bubble Boy would want to be is in India, slo-mo visions of Alex’s mouth chomping into one of our dung and fly infested apples overtook me, and prompted me to pick up the phone. I made a brief call to let Alex know the situation, and to tell him to take precautions like washing his hands and peeling his fruit. Cool? Cool.

An hour later I get a text message, “I love you.” Okay… Then, a few minutes later, “I think I’m getting scared.” Hello, violins! So I called to see what was up with all the melodrama. Turns out Bubble Boy searched “neutropenia” on the internet and convinced himself that he had cancer. When he told me his source, it was like “WebMD?? You two-timing ho’!” Come on now, WebMD is for people who aren’t married to doctors. You don’t see me ordering stock blueprints over the internet, do you?

Anyhow, we dealt with The Dengue just fine. His recent bloodwork shows normalization on all fronts, so I’m done with bleaching everything in sight and boiling our utensils, 19th Century style. After his internet disclosure, Alex felt compelled to warn me: “By the way, if you Google anything starting with the letter E ... don't get the wrong idea when you see “elisha cuthbert boobs” come up in the search memory." He had forgotten about it and momentarily had a pervy feeling when he caught it. But then he remembered, and and wanted to make sure that I remembered, that the two of us, impressed by Elisha's prodigious mams in "24", searched it together ... lest I think that Bubble Boy was up to no good in his bubble.


Ok, ok, that's enough of this one-sided blog. My name is Bubble Boy, and I only approve snippets of the above message. Yes, I had dengue. Yes, I had fever for 5 straight days. And yes, I was borderline melodramatic. The small detail that Dr. Park failed to elucidate was that when she described my 'neutropenic' condition over the phone to me, she also mentioned in passing that if my white blood cell count did not resolve, a bone marrow biopsy might be necessary. Now, even in my febrile state, I popped to attention at the thought of a 6-inch long needle piercing through my bones to the tender marrow. Nothing, not even Elisha's mams, was going to sweeten up that procedure. So, I went to WebMD, and after reading for just a minute, I was convinced I had cancer, malaria and a handful of other diseases. At that point I just prayed it was an infection.

Unfortunately it was dengue, but things are much better now. After my melodramatic episode, Dr. Park was infinitely more understanding and nursed me back to health. For days all she could get me to eat were Milk Bikis - so addictive that even nausea couldn't keep me away.