A whole new set of tastebuds

As a self-professed food snob, the biggest question I've gotten since arriving (apart from, "Are you safe?! Are you ok?!) is about the Indian cuisine. "How's the food??" my best friend messaged me. "Is the food good?" asked my mom. Food is one of the things I was looking forward to most about this trip, and I am happy to say that, for the most part, it has not disappointed.

But first! Friday was another all-day adventure away from school. In the morning we explored the National Museum, sort of the Indian equivalent of the Smithsonian. This is one of those museums that explores the history of the country through various mediums--art, sculpture, artifacts--and it would take several days to look at it all. You will all be happy to know that I finally found an acceptable souvenir: a bronze elephant, dating from, oh, about 2000 B.C., that I will be stealing from the National Museum in the dead of night and bringing back home. Won't everyone else in my group look silly, with their tapestries and their inlaid marble and their statues of Buddha, when I pull out my bronze elephant!

Other highlights included an ancient skeleton (quite the memento mori for the day), an elephant tusk carved intricately with scenes from the Buddha's life, and various intricate paintings of the Lord Krishna and his lover, Radha. For the benefit of non-Hindus reading this, Lord Krishna is the blue dude you always see in Indian art. Ever wonder why he was blue? Here's your fun fact for the day, explained to me by one of the SRCC girls: painting someone blue was a way to show how dark his or her skin was. Lord Krishna was supposed to be very dark indeed, especially compared to his lover Radha. If you squint, it actually kind of works.

Also, as a side note, Lord Krishna actually had many wives, but his deepest love was always devoted to Radha, who never married him, yet is considered his perfect match. Well, aren't we quite the stud of ancient times!

And then we got bored and started impersonating the Hindu statues. Typical.

After lunch we trekked to Cottage Industries, a fair trade store that pays craftsmen a good price for their wares and sells those items so the craftsmen don't have to bargain on the streets. Did I mention that I am not a shopper? I'm really not a bargainer, so I was very happy to pick up most of my presents and souvenirs here, even if they were slightly more expensive. (They were still pretty darn cheap.) For myself I picked up a sandalwood bracelet that smells insanely good, masala chai so I can get my fix back at home, and a small piece of inlaid marble, one of the treasures of India that my uncle recommended I buy.

Did I mention this place was huge? Five floors. Massive.

Our last stops were an ancient well and Jantar Mantar, an ancient and complex astronomy calculation system designed by one of the ancient emperors. It didn't feel like a scientific complex so much as a scene from a Dr. Seuss book:

You have brains in your head! You have feet in your shoes! You can steer yourself any direction you choose!

Now, back to what I'm sure you all want to know about: THE FOOOOOOOOOD!

(As I typed that, some guy began a singsongy Indian chant outside my window. I'll take that as a good sign.)

From what I can gather, North Indian food is more based in rice and heavy sauces, while South Indian food is lighter and consists of more dips. North Indian food is what we commonly have at Indian restaurants in America: masalas, paneer (a kind of cross between cottage cheese and tofu that is deliciouso), saag, etc. Here it's a bit heavier on the vegetables, which is fine by me.

Between the National Museum and our shopping, we lunched at a restaurant known for its South Indian cuisine. (Here most decent restaurants have security guards at the front doors to keep out the riffraff.)

The SRCC students ordered for us, so we didn't really know what we were getting. Luckily, Singh was joining us for lunch, so we had him to explain everything to us. First was a mysterious white drink that looked creamy and refreshing. A milkshake perhaps? What followed was one of the strangest taste experiences I've ever had: salty and creamy, with the lightest touch of heat somehow permeating the whole thing.

Singh, happily slurping the entire concoction down, told us the contents: yogurt, salt and pepper, and a green chile pepper.

Yeah. We promptly ordered a mango lassi instead.

We may be smiling, but we're crying inside.

The actual food was much more pleasant. This was my favorite. I honestly don't remember the name (I'm a terrible food blogger, I know), but it was a sort of rice pancake with vegetables and various dipping sauces: a lentil dal, a slightly sweet coconut chutney, a savory tomato sauce, a green chile chutney, and a smoky chile paste.

The dosa came with the same sauces. A sort of lightly fried Indian crepe, this was filled with a creamy potato filling that was quite similar to a pierogi. An Indian pierogi, that is.

We finished off our meal with halva, a sort of porridge of sweetened grains that we all really enjoyed (despite its off-putting color):

And finally, the waiter presented us with these mystifying bowls:

Blurry, I know. I never said I was a photographer.

This is the Indian equivalent of an after-dinner mint. You take a small handful of the anise seeds (bottom), add a few cubes of crystallized sugar (above), throw them back in your mouth, and chew. I was apprehensive, but the flavor was really unique and refreshing. "I like this," I said. "The sweetness of the sugar, the surprising flavor of the anise--it really cleanses your palate."

"It tastes like a portapotty," said Ana.

Honestly, I haven't hated almost anything I've tried here--no, not even the salty yogurt drink. It's just all so very different from the flavors I've had all my life. I don't know what to make of new foods like tamarinds and pickled vegetables at breakfast. It's like my tongue is discovering a whole new set of tastebuds I never knew I had.

Demolished. I may become the first obese person in India.

This was also the first part of our trip where we encountered pushy beggars. Outside the restaurant, waiting for our bus, a girl of no more than six years old with a shaved head shoved some cheap necklaces in our faces--or as close to our faces as she could reach. "Ten rupees!" she said, and when we shook our heads and said no, she kept insisting. Even when we crossed the street, even when one of the SRCC girls yelled at her in Hindi, she kept following us. When she finally left, a man approached us. "I give you good price," he said, showing us some trinket, and when we said no, he walked away, defeated. We watched his retreating back.

"I wonder," said Sharmila, "if this is a recent thing, or if he began as young as that girl...? Has this been his whole life?"

We were all quiet. It was something to think about.