We're in Manali. We arrived just before dawn after a mostly sleepless eight hour drive from McLeodganj. Our guesthouse is about a ten minute hike from the main road in Old Manali, and before dawn, with giant packs and no sleep, the hike is less enjoyable than it has been since. It starts with some steep, shallow stone steps, some of which are broken, then a narrow ledge built into some rock. From there you climb up more steep steps and through a perpetually wet/muddy, narrow ally between two buildings. After that there's a path that runs along the place where they collect the huge pile of dung, which is an easier walk, except that there's a tendency to hold one's breath for longer than is healthy during a hike. That's the first minute and a half. It continues in similar fashion from there, except most of the rest also involves a narrow/slippery path on the edge of a cliff. It's a pretty high cliff, and at the bottom is a raging river and giant boulders – generally a bad place to land if you fall. But that's all fine, because if you're careful, if you focus on the trail in front of you, you won't fall. The problem is that the world around you is that beautiful woman. It's there, minding its own business, naturally too beautiful to ignore. It pulls your attention from the trail, and if you forget to stop moving, if you are too caught up in the view to think of where your foot should be landing next, you could get into trouble. And you don't want to stop moving, because with every step you see something new – the perspective changes, the light changes, the bend opens up into something spectacular. The Himalayas, majestic and snow-capped, stretch out in front of you and behind you. To either side there are glowing green hills and amazing old pine trees, little houses and big estates, rose bushes (roses are so plentiful here that you could literally stop and smell the roses for entire afternoons) and the river, which winds and rushes and roars below. The water is light blue-green with the white foam of a river in a hurry, trying to make room for all the glacier water as it melts and comes down from the mountains. (The same glacier water is what we get to drink from the tap, cold and crisp and clean.) There are edible (and smokable) plants underfoot, fruit trees lining the path, adorable mountain dogs waiting for a pat on the head and sunshine, sunset, sunrise or the giant golden moon overhead... The air is so fresh, perfumed with all the mint, roses, wild oregano and fruit blossoms, but still crisp. The sky, most days, seems to be a clear, vibrant blue with just enough white cloud for contrast. And that's not even the best part...
Have you ever seen a woman so beautiful that as she walks down the street, men crane their necks to look at her, and in doing so drive right into another car, or an old lady crossing the road, or someone's living room? That's dangerous beauty, and it is rare. We're in Manali. We arrived just before dawn after a mostly sleepless eight hour drive from McLeodganj. Our guesthouse is about a ten minute hike from the main road in Old Manali, and before dawn, with giant packs and no sleep, the hike is less enjoyable than it has been since. It starts with some steep, shallow stone steps, some of which are broken, then a narrow ledge built into some rock. From there you climb up more steep steps and through a perpetually wet/muddy, narrow ally between two buildings. After that there's a path that runs along the place where they collect the huge pile of dung, which is an easier walk, except that there's a tendency to hold one's breath for longer than is healthy during a hike. That's the first minute and a half. It continues in similar fashion from there, except most of the rest also involves a narrow/slippery path on the edge of a cliff. It's a pretty high cliff, and at the bottom is a raging river and giant boulders – generally a bad place to land if you fall. But that's all fine, because if you're careful, if you focus on the trail in front of you, you won't fall. The problem is that the world around you is that beautiful woman. It's there, minding its own business, naturally too beautiful to ignore. It pulls your attention from the trail, and if you forget to stop moving, if you are too caught up in the view to think of where your foot should be landing next, you could get into trouble. And you don't want to stop moving, because with every step you see something new – the perspective changes, the light changes, the bend opens up into something spectacular. The Himalayas, majestic and snow-capped, stretch out in front of you and behind you. To either side there are glowing green hills and amazing old pine trees, little houses and big estates, rose bushes (roses are so plentiful here that you could literally stop and smell the roses for entire afternoons) and the river, which winds and rushes and roars below. The water is light blue-green with the white foam of a river in a hurry, trying to make room for all the glacier water as it melts and comes down from the mountains. (The same glacier water is what we get to drink from the tap, cold and crisp and clean.) There are edible (and smokable) plants underfoot, fruit trees lining the path, adorable mountain dogs waiting for a pat on the head and sunshine, sunset, sunrise or the giant golden moon overhead... The air is so fresh, perfumed with all the mint, roses, wild oregano and fruit blossoms, but still crisp. The sky, most days, seems to be a clear, vibrant blue with just enough white cloud for contrast. And that's not even the best part... Manali is divided into two parts – old and new. New Manali is pretty gross – tons of traffic, dirt, pollution, trash, smoking tourists and pushy vendors. (But thereare also some amazing characters wandering around.) It's loud and bustling, but not in an invigorating way. Also, the main ATM always has a huge line, and has run out of money several times. To get to it, you need to cross over a huge ditch by way of a rickety railing stretched across as a bridge. Old Manali is much smaller and quieter. There are shops and beauty salons, cafes and guest houses. The river runs alongside parts of old Manali, and the rest is very steep with narrow roads, so there aren't many cars or tuck-tucks. It is much cleaner than New Manali, and looks newer, too. Yogi warned us that all of Manali is “The Junkie Corner.” (Yogi has a way with words. His way is hilarious and honest, and this is one of his phrases that we use constantly. It means a place where junkies – aka people who smoke or drink or worse – congregate to get high, or low, or to “use each other as closets.” I'll let you work that last phrase out on your own, it's another group favorite.) Anyway, of COURSE it is the junkie corner. Weed literally is a weed here – it grows everywhere, and many shops sell baby hookas, rolling papers, pipes and other smoking paraphernalia. I can't think of a better place to sit and get high than anywhere along the path to our guesthouse, or at our guesthouse, which is in an apple/apricot orchard with a giant yard full of roses, honeysuckle and plush grass, a staff waiting to make you food, a view of the river and mountains and Yanu, an amazing dog who is always ready to hang out. As a non-junkie, I would prefer it if the junkies would stop smoking and go to bed at a reasonable hour (like 9:30), but to each his own... Anyway, Old Manali and New Manali are joined by a road and a park. The road is icky, and the park is the best place I have ever been in my life, so I generally take the park. It's the Great Himalaya National Park, and I want to live there forever. I have spent the last few days trying to figure out how to accomplish this goal, and I'm not generally a pessimist, but it's not looking good. (It would be a much more attainable goal if I had an invisibility cloak or the ability to generate electric power from inside the park without drawing any attention, so let me know if you have any ideas on those fronts. I know in the Yoga Sutras the whole last chapter is on super powers like floating and invisibility, but Yogi says I'm not ready for that yet...) The park is an ancient pine forest with lots of moss-covered boulders and grass and a little stream and, past the cliff, the river. Forgive me for not trying to put into words the beauty of this forest, but I know I cannot. The pictures don't even come close... There's nothing that can even come close to describing the feeling of being amongst those trees. It may sound crazy, but the first time I walked into the park, I cried almost the whole way through to the other end. Everyone has their form of nature that moves them the most – some people want to be on the beach forever, others love the mountains, and a few even love the desert most (but those are the crazies). I'm a forest person. I've been trying to understand the reaction I had, and here's what I got: we are energy, flowing through these organic human bodies. That's fact – we all have an electro-magnetic component that hasn't been fully explained by modern science. Energy vibrates, and those vibrations travel past our bodies and can be felt by others. (Think about when you “feel” someone watching you, or get a bad feeling from someone without any tangible reason, or like someone right away, before you even speak to each other.) The forest is full of trees and plants, all vibrating at their own levels, and creating a certain energetic “hum” that must just really amplify the “hum” going on in my own body. Oceans, mountains and deserts all have their own different vibrations due to the energy in the rocks, the crashing waves and the plants. When I walked into the forest, I felt it through my whole body. It was amazing, but completely overwhelming. I've been back a few times since then, and it mostly isn't overwhelming anymore – I've figured out how to deal with it. Lori, Dia, Mac and I went to the forest yesterday to take some pictures for our yoga websites and bios, so I will post a few here, but again, they don't even come close... (Oh, but the “photo shoot” was hilarious! There are tons of Indian tourists in Manali now, so there was a constant trickle of people down the path through the woods, and many stopped to watch us, cheering after we finished particularly difficult poses, and one family even posed with Lori as she did her pictures.)
0 Comments
I thought being vegan in the East Village was easy... Then I came to Mcleodganj, where most restaurants advertise their “veg” status alongside their name – either “veg” or “pure veg,” meaning no meat served at all. (Though sometimes places have no name, and you have to inquire within and hope someone speaks English. One of the best places we found is literally a hole in the wall, so small that there is really only room for making food or eating food, not both at once. Cleanliness is something you have to put out of your mind when you are there - it's not a place for germophobes. It's not that it's dirty, exactly. When we went for the first time (the nice Indian restaurant across the street was only serving breakfast, and we were so hungry for lunch, so we poked our heads in and asked, “Veg?” Two men looked at each other and then at the third, who responded, “Yeh, veg, dal.” They seemed a little surprised that we seemed interested in them (don't want to jump to conclusions, but I think it's because we're white...). So we squeeze in past the three men (well, one was still a boy) and looked around for a place to sit. There were benches, maybe enough room for five comfortable, average-sized tushes (India average, not American average), and along the wall there was a little ledge instead of tables. There was a couple and their child there, and another man, so there wasn't much room left, and the ledge above that spot of open bench was covered in dirty dishes and shmutz. The boy came and started passing the dishes past us to the other two men, but there was so little room to move and maneuver that the pile of dishes soon crashed to the floor... When the area was cleared enough that we could sit and get out of their way, they ran a wet rag over the ledge and started making our food. The parantha (bread) was whole wheat, stuffed with shredded potatoes and chili peppers, then cooked on the stove top. Then we had dal, yellow lentils with some larger beans, some pickled something (mango, I think – sour and sweet and very mildly spicy) and a potato curry. It was all delicious (though I don't like the pickled mysteries, I prefer kosher dill). There were spoons, but mostly you ate with your hands, using the bread to scoop up the beans and potato, and my hands got pretty messy. I asked for a napkin, and they said they had none. They weren't out of napkins, they just don't have them, ever. But, they had a small sink in the corner, so I used that, and they even offered me a rag for drying my hands. We ordered another round of dal and aloo parantha and ate happily. When we finished, we asked how much we owed them. “Sixty rupee.” Sixty rupees is equivalent to about $1.20 in the US. We also did not get sick from that meal, and have been back since. Charlie got what we think was all-you-can-eat thali for thirty-five rupees (about $0.70 US). He ate a whole plate of food, asked for more, they brought him round two, and then round three, and at the end, the bill was the same as for one plate. All veg, no ghee or butter or cream or meat, and delicious. We never got a picture of the place, but it was smaller and much less fancy than this one: All “pure veg” places offer lots of cheese, butter, curd (yogurt) and other dairy, and are often very confused when we ask for the dish without those things. We ordered a veg pizza one day and everyone in the restaurant, from the busboy/waiter to the cook to the owners, all came to try to understand what we really meant – because a pizza without cheese is... well, there are not even words for that. They use vegetable oil here a lot, instead of ghee, though ghee and butter are still very present. One of the Tibetan staples is yak butter tea, a cup of tea with a big scoop of salted yak butter in it, and even as I type this I am trying not to wretch. But it works for the Tibetans, so that's nice... (And even though it's veggie oil, don't eat the stuff that's fried in it. Yogi says they brought that oil all the way from Tibet and just keep using it in the big deep-fry wok. ;) Toxic.) There's one vegan restaurant we've found, though they offer cheese as an addition to many of the dishes, but everything on the menu is vegan (if you don't add the cheese). It's one of our favorite places, up on the third floor with an amazing view of the valley and lake in the distance. There is hardly ever anyone there, so there's always enough room for large groups, and even though they're never busy, it always takes at least an hour for anything you order. But it's worth the wait. Pema, the manager, is an amazing, friendly man with an infectious smile and an awesome attitude and funny stories about chickens in Goa, though his English is a little spotty, so maybe the stories aren't as funny as we think. The place, Khana Nirvana (Food Heaven), is actually a non-profit with environmental goals, though I'm not sure what they do other than run an empty vegan-ish cafe. They offer volunteer opportunities, such as conversation with the workers and baking desserts. They almost never have desserts, though they're listed on the menu. Pema doesn't like sweets, so I think he just never makes them. We volunteered one day and made some interesting cookies. It was fun, and after tasting them, we weren't so sad the next time we came in and there were no cookies made. Their motto is “Liberation through mastication.” Another favorite place is JJI Exile Brothers Cafe, very close to our guesthouse. They seem to be the only place in town for whole wheat momos (Tibetan dumplings), and the steamed spinach momos are the best. They also have (good) vegan chocolate cake, a rooftop garden with an awesome view, dogs and Johnny Cash playing on the sound system. There's a man who works there, he may be part of the family. There's something not quite right about him, but with the language barrier, we're not sure what it is. But he loves Mac. LOOOOOOOOOVES him. Tenzin will come up behind Mac and hug him, squeeze him, pretty much molest him, and even once gave Mac a zrbtt on the arm. (Zrbtt= putting your mouth on someone's skin and blowing until a farty noise comes out; spelling courtesy of Rudy Huxtable.) They use a lot of green vegetables here. Spinach, bok choi, something like chard (but better) and a few others make it into the regular rotation, and getting a plate of crunchy, stir-fried bok choi alone is easy to do. They also have carrots, daikon, green cabbage, mild red onions, green peppers, potatoes, zucchini, cucumber, napa cabbage, beets, bitter melon, green beans, okra, English peas, eggplant and fruit – apples, bananas, watermelon, canteloupe, mangoes, papayas, peaches and the occasional kiwis, pears and apricots. We've made some pretty incredible meals here - gazpacho with cilatro-cashew cream sauce, papaya and brined English pea salad with apricot balsamic dressing, chocolate-covered bananas with homemade coconut-honey muesli... There are also wild stinging nettles and mint growing everywhere here, so I got new scissors and went out to harvest them one day to make delicious tea with Ceylon cinnamon. Our best Tibetan meal here may have been with Yeshi. He walked to McLeodganj from Tibet with nothing when he was eighteen. He didn't know anyone in India, had no prospects. It's a pretty common story here. He ended up going to art school and learned traditional Tibetan painting and is now starting to branch out into tattoos. He's very talented, and one of the sweetest people I have ever met. He's a struggling artist, sharing a tiny apartment with two friends, but they always bring us tea when we come over and consistently go out of their way to help us or show us generosity. He's trying to get to the States or Canada to study art, so if anyone knows of a good scholarship out there... Anyway, he invited us to his little home for dinner before we left, and so Lori, Dia, Carla, Mac and I happily accepted. We brought homemade sushi made of brown rice, nori, cucumber, carrots and lentil sprouts with a sesame-peanut-lime-chilli dipping sauce. Unfortunately, Yeshi and his friends don't like sushi, but we ate the whole plateful. Yeshi made thukpa (a traditional vegetable soup) for dinner with fresh, whole wheat dumplings, and taught us how to make it, too. It was so delicious and so simple... Working on a raw version...
So, I meant to be updating regularly, but classes have been so very busy, from 5:30 in the morning to 9 at night most days, until now... The extra classes (reiki and ayurvedic massage) have ended, and now there seems to be so much time, as our classes end at 6pm! Of course, we're supposed to be in bed by 9, but still, that's three whole hours to eat dinner, wash clothes and update blogs. :) The yoga program is amazing, learning so much from a teacher who not only lives the life he encourages, but also has such vast knowledge on so many topics, much of which he is kindly passing on to us. He's truly amazing, explaining very spiritual topics from a sound scientific viewpoint. He doesn't seem to do anything without a reason, whether its the way our fingers are spread in certain asanas or the specific three-hour meditations to initiate us into each reiki level. He is funny, down-to-earth, professional and kind. I couldn't have imagined a more inspiring teacher, and I can't wait to get home to back to teaching. I will, over the next few weeks, fill in the gaps in time I have left here, but for now, here's a bit about this week: We had our naming ceremony. As we grow and learn in this course, we become different people, we change and, hopefully, become truer versions of ourselves. With this shedding of old ideas and ego-identities comes new understanding and a new name. I was anointed "Manisha" the Goddess of Mind and Desire. (The desire part doesn't seem super yogic, but I'm working to understand it better... Haha) The ceremony was so beautiful, in the sun-filled yoga hall, with organic incense filling the air and ghee (butter) candle to signify the light and knowledge that we have recieved. The new students were welcomed, the old ones recieved certificates and we all received gifts from our beloved Yogi. We (the outgoing group) also presented him with a Lapis ring, a small token of our gratitude and esteem, and he seemed touched. Mac is now "Dinesh" the God of the Day, and our buddy Sarah is Sarada, another version of Saraswati. After the ceremony we had class, which Yogi stopped to so that we could all marvel at the rainbow coming down from the mountains. I've never seen the end of the rainbow before... There was no pot of gold, but it was beautiful. (Yogi is great with priorities, like the natural wonder of a rainbow at the end of a beautiful storm over an extra minute of forward bending, or five minutes of rest during lecture today because he was feeling a bit tired.) That night we went out to a small concert at a local (and well-hidden) cafe. Our friend, the master tabla player who graces us each morning with his music during kirtan, Kushi Ram, was playing with his friend, a master flautist, AND they were serving VEGAN chocolate momos! (Momos are a Tibetan dumpling, delicious.) Kushi and his friend were amazing, and tomorrow I hope to have their assistance in buying a small flute of my own. Anyway, I was being introduced to an Indian man who wasn't able to get my name, so I told him he could call me Manisha, and he said that it's the most perfect name for me... He was smiling, and not in a creepy way, so I think that's good.
Afterwards we passed by this little dark doorway on the way home. In the darkness there was a basket set over some candles, the light coming through in patterns of the weave on the dirt and concrete walls and floor, but it was so beautiful. I was lagging behind the group, but I made them all stop and come inside with me, the place was called Heart Rock Cafe. We entered through a little doorway and took a few steps in, the room opening up before us. It was like a cave, with other basket lights and pillows and small tables all around. The proprietor beckoned us in, a small Indian man, greeting Mac as "kind Sir." It was late, so we didn't stay, but we're heading back again soon, and will return with pictures. Enough for now, more to come on hand-made tattoos (no machine, just needles), Buddhist meditation centers, mountains, monkeys, friends, and FOOD!! And... goats... We finally got on the (right) train, less than four hours late. Mac looked over at me, smiled and said, "Well, that was easy." Ha, ha. We settled in easily ( the cars were marked this time) and met our neighbors, a few quiet men, one of whom was chain smoking, and a pack of loud, unruly teenage boys who were playing loud music and trying to wrestle each other from the upper bunks. It was about 12:30 at night. In the rest of the sleeping cars, the lights were out and people were- you guessed it! - sleeping! We had been at the train station since about 4 pm, so we were ready to relax, as much as one can relax while sitting up in a smoke-filled, cold, loud filthy train. The seats were basically benched with thin vinyl padding. The whole train seemed ancient. I finally poked one of the teenagers and told him to "knock it off" (I felt so old!), which they all did, and then I turned off the lights win vague approval from the rest of the grown-ups and tried to get comfortable for the next 12 hours or so. The chain smoker left and another man came, asking questions like "what do you think of India?" And "why do you think history is important?" When his phone rang I took my chance, pulled my hat down over my eyes and fell asleep. Somehow Mac got a whole long bench (a bed, really) to himself, though at some point in the night the TTE came and woke him and the man across the aisle up and demanded that they switch beds. Sarah and I shared the one bed, next to windows that wouldn't shut, waking every hour or two to find a new balled-up position that might hurt less. By morning we were exhausted and so grateful for the sun making its way in through the filthy windows to warm us a bit. I got up at sunrise, watching the towns pass, one after another, families waking up, lighting fires, heating water and food, bathing next to the tracks from communal spigots. Everyone around me was asleep. I sat there, huddled in my thin, "borrowed" Aerosvit blanket, watching other people start their days, feeling a bit like I was getting an intimate look at these strangers, and through that intimate look, feeling like they weren't strangers at all.
The chai man came through every half hour or so, offering tea to the waking passengers. People folded their blankets and took turns in the bathroom (private, stinky hole in the floor), and one woman repeatedly cleared phlegm from her nose and throat as poor Sarah was disgusted almost beyond words. As it got closer to the juicy, light-filled middle of the morning, each stop brought new faces, both commuters and vendors, the commuters taking out playing cards and organizing games or reading the paper, the vendors coming on walking up.and down the aisles with offers of food (mountainous towers of fried something, vegetable patties, bags of chips and bottles of soda), shoe shines, fixed zippers or quick tailoring, even some sort of trading cards, until the train began to slowly crawl forward. There were also beggars at each stop, children who passed out notes, women with tiny, portable shrines, a man who swept the aisles, stopping every so often to extend an open hand to a passenger. As the only white people in the car, Sarah, mac and I were prime targets. Sarah avoided this by continuing her uncomfortable sleep, and Mac was sort of turned away from the rush, but my seat was right in the middle of it, and I was fully conscious. I was surprised at how many of the beggars found poking me to be the most appropriate way to convey their needs, and I tried to ignore them all. I had nothing to give, anyway, apart from an apologetic smile (which left my face quickly the more they poked me). When we arrived at our stop, we had to find a cab to drive up up into the mountains to McLeod Ganj. It was a beautiful drive, and we were so excited to finally be there at our yoga school, when we finally found it. The view from our room was of the mountains and valleys, with huge birds soaring and diving and mongeese running through the brush below... We couldn't have imagined it any better. Class was to begin the nest morning, so we settled in and met our classmates, and tried to get some sleep. Day two- is that really possible? It seems like longer... We woke up today after a somewhat painful rest (as sleep wasn't consistent enough to call it "sleep") on the hard, top sheet-less beds, and noticed that the streets were quieter than the day before. Still lots of honking, yelling and bustle, but less of it. A boy was throwing huge chunks of meat up into the air and a hawk was swooping down and grabbing them. We went downstairs to find breakfast, and the manager tried to get us to pay for another full day because we had not checked out at 5 am, which would have been 24 hours after our check-in. After some back-and-forth, we compromised and paid for one room so we could keep our bags there while we continued on to the sights of the day. (Our breakfast turned out to be curried dal and roti (beans and bread), spicy and delicious, and $1 for all three of us.) We thought we knew where to catch the subway. There was a big staircase near the Red Fort labeled "Subway," and we made assumptions... We confidently strode past all the rickshaw and tuck-tuck drivers offering to take us somewhere, and down the stairs, only to find that their version of a subway was a little more literal. It was a pedestrian walkway that crossed under the heavily trafficked street above. We sheepishly walked back past the drivers and asked for directions. We made our way to Humayun's tomb on a bus (it was beautiful, more adorable puppies, and almost empty, we laid in the grass and listened to music from a nearby temple) then to the Lotus Temple (an enormous white marble structure with giant lotus petal reaching high and wide and blue pools that mimicked the leaves, gardens and flowers and inconsistently placed barbed wire) on another bus and tuck-tuck (think golf cart but faster, painted bright green with a yellow roof and a chain-smoking driver), and then back to New Delhi to book train tickets, via the very impressive new metro system. (The trains aren't sectioned, so if you are in the last car, and the train is on a straight track, you can see allllll the way to the first car. It was also clean, air-conditioned and our most expensive ride was about 30 cents each. After over an hour and at least six different windows, we were told the train was sold out, but we could try the Old Delhi railway station for a similar train. After at least six more windows there, we were again told that the train was sold out, no hope of getting to Dharamsala in time for classes. We sent Sarah to see how much a cab would cost for the 10 hour drive (about $170) as I pleaded with the man behind the counter. I finally asked him where the bus station was, at which point he turned to a female colleague and began a conversation with her. They talked or a while, long enough that I was wondering if he was done with me, but I stuck around and finally he sent me to another window with the woman, who I figured out had interceded on my behalf. She told me later that she made them give me a seat on the train (three seats, actually) because she was concerned about what would happen if we room the bus, which apparently full of "troubles." We got our tickets for the lowest class seats on the overnight train (about $5 each) and ran out to get our bags from the hotel (and a papaya) before the train left at 9:15. (Mac also stopped to get some food. He actually got so much food - four whole meals - that the men who were preparing it for him started to laugh every time he said "and some..." He's very good at eating.) We got to the station and found the platforms (it was either coming to 4 or 6 according to the tickets). When the train pulled up, chaos ensued- the cars weren't marked, so there was much dispute about which car was which. Six women in black veils- full coverage- very rudely pushed me out of my seat and took over the whole section. They were ultimately made to move, as the car agreed the seat (and the two next to it) were ours. We stowed our bags overhead and sat down, settling in or the night, laughing about how much nonsense was going on and how much easier it would be if the cars were marked. Just before we started moving, a train pulled into platform 6 ( we were on 4) and Mac and I both wondered aloud if we were on the right train, sort of joking at first, but we quickly decided we'd better ask. Nobody in the sleep car (the lowest class car) spoke English, and no one seemed to know if we were on the right train, but we looked at their tickets and realized, just as the train started moving, that we were not. We were headed to Lucknow, east instead of North. We jumped up and I started wrestling our bags down as Mac took them from me and ran for the door. I was right after him, but Sarah had headed or the other end of the train. We jumped out as the train was pulling away, and as I looked back for Sarah, I saw her standing in the doorway, looking like she wasn't going to jump. She finally did, but in the confusion she had gotten Mac's backpack-way too big for her- and as she jumped, it pulled her down back-first, so she landed, hard, on her back, on the the backpack. We ran across to platform 4, and nobody seemed to know that train number, either. We finally found someone who told us that our train had been delayed two hours - "the cost of delay is regretted"- and that it would be coming on another platform. It is now almost three hours later, and we are still waiting... ;) This place is fun. It keeps you on your toes.
The flights were fairly uneventful. Lots of movies, lots of sleeping (for me) and not much to eat. We informed the attendants that we had requested vegetarian meals, but they told us coldly and firmly, "No." No questions, no apologies, just a decisive ruling before they handed us each a dinner salad consisting of one piece of romaine, about the size of a business card, a cherry tomato, a black olive and two slices of cucumber. Livin' the raw vegan dream! We were on Aerosvit, a Ukranian airline, and they were less than hospitable. But the planes were comfortable, the flights were smooth and we arrived on time- to applause, no less, from the other passengers. We did have a five hour layover in Kiev, not enough time to get out and see the sights, but just long enough to feel how cold Kiev is in March- freezing!- and to see that the landscape was as warm and fuzzy as our flight attendants. We napped a bit, then happily climbed aboard our next plane, which was neon! Once in Dehli, we had some samosas and channa (mmm, spice!) and found our friend and headed for Chandni Chowk. We found a hotel by 5am and settled in (after some really extensive paperwork by the desk guy) and then marvelled at the Jama Masjid as the sun came up, the streets already full of people, carts, cars, bikes, goats, sheep, dogs and vendors. As I readied myself for the cold bucket bath, I had a moment of panic. (And I mean "panic" in the most relaxed way possible.) I was confronted with a mildly grimy, tiny "bathroom." There was a non-functioning sink, a squat toilet, an old mirror mounted on the wall, and two faucets coming out of the wall, labelled "cold" and, incorrectly, "hot." Below the faucets was a big bucket and a smaller bucket. No towels, no toilet paper. So my thought pattern was something like, "Ew! This is kinda gross- Why am I here? Wait, I like dirt! Why is this bothering me? Because I like outside dirt, not inside dirt that came from other people's-stranger people's- bodies! Ah!! Maybe this was all a huge mistake! I should have gone camping, in the outside dirt! Not to a big icky city with people dirt!" Then I took a breath, realized that not only was I being a privileged asshole, but I also already committed so I better make the best of it. And I was wrong, anyway.
We had a lovely day, visiting the Jama Masjid, where we were given garrish robes to wear, to cover our arms, and distracted from our meditation inside the mosque by other (Indian) visitors taking pictures of the white people. The whole taking pictures of, and with, the white people went on all day. We were swarmed by a class of school children on a field trip to the Red Fort, yelling "hello" and wanting to shake hands. Then they asked for a picture with us and cheered like they'd just met rock stars. It was hilarious, and we must have taken at least ten other pictures with random people that day, too. (Including one at night with a guy and his family, but his camera was bad in low light, so he asked me to take one with my camera and email it to him. I did.) In the seemingly unending little streets that make up the sprawling markets, cars, pedestrians and rickshaws fought for the right of way as flies buzzed in and out of pots of rice and dal and locals stared at us like they'd just seem a new species. We got a papaya and asked them to cut it in half, which they did, though they seemed pretty confused. We walked the rest of the way carrying the papaya halves and eating with forks, now being stared at like a clinically insane new species. We ate at Karim's, famous for their biryani, none of which was vegan, but dinner was spicy and delicious nonetheless. We walked through more markets, saw some kids playing cricket at some point, and even caught some of the sound and light show at the.Red Fort, which was mosquito-y and not terribly impressive, but the dollar ticket got us in at night for some amazing views and an almost deserted fort. There were also adorable, filthy puppies. Seriously filthy. I played with one and my hand was black when I walked away. On the way home I tried to buy a sari (but walked away when I realized the guy wanted me to sew it myself), we got lost in the market streets, met three bulls and saw a cat chasing a huge rat, and then, right as she was about to catch him, she stopped and walked away. But we found our way back, and are nestled in our tiny room, with its three twin (or, is there something smaller than twin?) Beds, with wood frames, pushed side by side and taking up almost every inch of floor, but still with a few inches of wooden frame between each.mattress, so it isn't quite the "one big bed" it might have been. And yet... so glad I came here, no matter how great camping dirt is. The adventure begins... That's not really true. I think that life is -or can be?- an adventure, no matter where you are, and I certainly don't feel that my adventure is just beginning, but I'm at the airport, on my way to India and then Nepal, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Vietnam, Cambodia... who knows where... and so this seems like a better example of the traditional form of "adventure." We packed up our NYC apartment, dropped everything in our parents' basements (and had a wonderful week with them), said a very tearful goodbye to the puppy, and headed back to NY with one backpack each to catch our flight to Delhi. On the way I remembered that there was a vegan restaurant (Horizons) in Philly that I had always wanted to try, so we detoured - our first detour of the trip! - and had a really amazing dinner. Definitely check it out if you are in (or near) Philly. The food was imaginative and delicious, beautiful presentation and hearty portions. The atmosphere was a bit cold, as was most of the staff, but our waiter was quite nice and helpful. Quite possibly one of the best meals I have ever had, and we didn't even try any of their signature dishes. We had two nights in NY before we left, the first we optimistically decided to spend in our empty apartment. The only things left in the apartment were the various recycling items and some cleaning supplies, so I cut open an empty cardboard box and set it out on the floor as a pad, then made a sort of mattress out of plastic bags (it was almost big enough for my torso), layered the three shirts and three pairs of pants, small Shamwow and yoga towel I had packed for the trip. It made a pretty good bed or the first three minutes, and after that it was just better than the floor. The radiator had been off for about a week, so it was also freezing, but the next night a dear friend gave us a warm bed to sleep in and now we are off! A few months ago one of my regular clients asked me to be her wedding present to two friends, Jen and Jessica. They both love good food, and she thought one of them was vegetarian or vegan, so she wanted me to go to their home and prepare a meal for them. (The veg thing was not entirely true, unless bacon is now considered a vegetable, but they both love all kinds of food and were up for anything.) After much back and forth, we found a date that worked for all of us, settled on a menu and one snowy night I met them at their lovely apartment. The big farm-style table was set with candles and wine, and the view out the giant window was all city lights brightening the dark horizon. The kitchen was a little on the small side for an apartment that big, even for New York, but they cook a lot and were really creative in making space. One whole wall was a pegboard to hold everything from peelers to a mandolin, and just outside the kitchen was a shelving unit for dishes and big bowls and such. (And the dishes - their wedding china - was some of the most beautiful I have ever seen, with a gorgeous, thick Indian-style border around each dish.) A rolling island with a butcher-block top was the perfect addition to make the small space fully functioning for any chef, and to create a link between the kitchen and dining room to invite conversation and interaction during meal prep. Soon the wine and conversation were flowing, and the first course was on its way. First Course: "I Wish It Were Summer" Rolls Rolls: 1 sweet potato, outer skin peeled and discarded; the cleaned potato is then made into narrow-to-wide strips with the vegetable peeler. Should make about 3 cups 1 1/2 c. sweet onion, julienned then halved 1 1/2 c. English/Garden Peas 2 c. chopped spinach 2 t. fresh thyme 1 t. ground coriander 1/4 c. purified water (instead of oil) 1/4 c. chopped fresh cilantro 1 t. sea salt rice paper summer roll wrappers 1. In a medium sauté pan, sweat the onions with a little bit of water. 2. After a few minutes, add the sweet potato and some more water and cover to keep the moisture in, stirring occasionally as the sweet potatoes steam. 3. After a few more minutes, the sweet potatoes should be close to done, add the peas, spinach, thyme and coriander with the rest of the water and continue to cook until the spinach is soft and the sweet potatoes are fully cooked or al dente (I like them a little al dente, personally). 4. Remove the mixture from the heat; add the cilantro and sea salt, mix well. 5. Prepare the rice wrappers by soaking them in warm water until soft. 6. Place a wrapper on a plate, scoop a few generous spoonfuls of the sweet potato mixture into the center, and fold up like a burrito Sweet Almond Dipping Sauce: 1/2 c. almond butter 1/4 c. water 1 1/2 t. maple syrup 2 1/2 t. coriander 1/2 t. sea salt 3 1/2 T rice vinegar 2 1/2 t. toasted sesame oil 2 t. chickpea miso cayenne pepper powder (to taste) Combine all ingredients in a bowl and mix thoroughly. Drizzle the sauce over the roll and around the plate, or serve on the side. Course 2: Greens and Papaya Salad Ingredients: 1/2 small papaya, julienned 4 c. fresh baby arugula 4 c. mixed baby greens 1-2 scallions, chopped 1 c. garlic-maple cashews (recipe below) 2 c. bean sprouts 4 plum tomatoes, julienned 2 cups fresh cilantro, chopped ½ c. basil leaves, julienned Dressing: 2 T. evoo 3 T. fresh lime juice 1 T. maple syrup Garlic-Maple Cashews: 1 c. raw cashews 1 T. maple syrup 1 T water 1 t. garlic powder ¼ t. sea salt cayenne to taste Thoroughly mix everything but the cashews in a bowl or blender and pour over cashews. Stir cashews every few minutes until all the liquid has been absorbed. Spread over a teflex sheet and dehydrate until crunchy, about 6-8 hours. Mix the baby greens, arugula and dressing, making the base for the salad. Arrange the rest of the ingredients over the greens and enjoy. Course 3: Raw Pad Thai Ingredients: 3 zucchini, noodled 1 yellow onion, julienned 1-2 red peppers, julienned 1 ½ c. cremini mushrooms, cleaned and sliced 1 bunch cilantro, stems removed ½ c. almonds, chopped 2 stalks scallions, chopped evoo and tamari for marinade 1 large lime, cut into wedges Sauce: 2 c. soaked almonds 3 T dulse flakes 2 cloves garlic 2 t. red pepper flakes ½ c. evoo 3 c. purified water 1 c. sundried tomatoes 4 medjool dates 10 dried apricots 1. Marinate onion, red peppers and mushrooms in evoo and tamari. 2. Combine all sauce ingredients in a high-speed blender. 3. In a large bowl, mix zucchini noodles, marinated veggies and sauce. 4. Garnish with cilantro, almonds, scallions, lime. Course 4: Marjoram Ginger Orange Muffins with Lavender Coconut Ice Cream and Lucuma Caramel Sauce (Whew! Yes, there are a lot of components to this, but none is that hard and all together they're really yummy.) Marjoram Ginger Orange Mini-Muffins: 2 c. all-purpose flour ½ c. white sugar 5 drops stevia, or to taste 4 t. baking powder ½ t. sea salt ¼ c. earth balance ½ c. coconut oil 1 orange, juiced 2 t. ground ginger 2 t. marjoram ½ c. purified water 1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees 2. Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl, add the wet ingredients and blend well. 3. Pour mix into your pan and bake. I used a mini muffin tin, but you can bake this in any size or shape you want. For the muffin tin, about 15 minutes was enough, when I did it in a square pan it needed a little more time. Lucuma Caramel Sauce: ¼ c. lucuma powder 1/3 c. cashews 1 t. vanilla powder ¼ c. mesquite powder 1 ¼ c. purified water 1 t. sea salt Blend ingredients well in a high speed blender Lavender Coconut Ice Cream: 1 14 oz. can full-fat coconut milk (Organic Native Forest is bpa-free) 3 t. chia seeds, ground 3 T. local, sustainable honey 1 T vodka 1 T. lavender flowers, minced or powdered ½ t. sea salt Put a glass or metal bowl in the freezer and let it get really cold. Throw everything in the high speed blender for thirty seconds, then put the mixture in the frozen bowl and whisk. Put it in the freezer and let sit for four to six hours or until frozen. (I am still working this recipe out. It tastes good, and has a good texture right after it freezes, but the next day it is pretty rock-hard, and you have to let it sit out for a bit to soften. I'll keep you updated as I re-work it.) I served this dessert as follows: Drizzle some of the lucuma sauce on the plate, cut the top of the muffin off, and set the bottom of the muffin on the plate. Place a scoop of lavender ice cream on the muffin bottom, top it with the muffin top (like a sandwich or profiterole) and spoon some more sauce over the whole thing. Garnish with mint, and if you can find raspberries, they would be a great addition as well. I have to extend a big thank you to Kristin for bringing us all together, to Jen and Jessica for being such gracious and fun hosts, and to Jessica for the beautiful pictures of the night and the food.
Photo credit: Jessica Moon Rawvioli is so good. There are so many ways to do it, but the basic idea is to take a veggie that can be thinly sliced (zucchini, beet, turnip, jicama) and put a dollop of "cheese" inside, making a delicious little pocket. Basic raw cheese recipes are usually a blend of creamy nuts (macadamia, cashew or pine) with sea salt, lemon juice and sometimes herbs, nutritional yeast or probiotics*. Add a basic marinara and you have a creamy, delicious, meal, reminiscent of the old Italian classic. But it is also very heavy and full of nuts. If you want to cut the nut content, you have to replace it with something... How about asparagus, spinach and fennel? Ingredients: 2 medium-large zucchini, sliced into paper-thin rounds with a mandolin slicer 10-12 Asparagus, trimmed and chopped 1 c. fennel bulb, chopped 1 c. packed spinach 1 large clove garlic 1/2 c. hemp seeds 1/3 c. cashews 1/3 c. purified water 1/2 t. sea salt Directions: Blend the cashews, water and sea salt in a high speed blender. Add the remaining ingredients and blend until almost smooth, leaving small chunks of asparagus and spinach. (Alternatively, blend until completely smooth for a creamier texture.) Place a small spoonful of the asparagus mixture on one zucchini round, then cover with another piece of zucchini. You can stop here, but if you have access to a dehydrator, try dehydrating the little rawviolis for about four hours at 104 degrees. This will give the zucchini more of a pasta-like texture and warm the rawviolis to a nice temperature for serving, without disturbing any nutrients or enzymes. You can make a traditional marinara, but I wanted something different, so I made a rich miso- mushroom ragout to serve with these little treats:
Ingredients: 2 c. chopped cremini mushrooms (roughly eight mushrooms) 1/4 c. evoo 1 T. chickpea miso (or substitute the miso you have/love, but start with 1/2 T as some miso is very strong) 1 T. miso tamari (or regular tamari or Nama Shoyu) 1/8 c. purified water 3 T. chopped parsley Directions: Blend all ingredients in a high speed blender until smooth. To serve: I like the idea of serving on a big white plate (as the canvas) with the gravy artfully drizzled onto the plate and the rawvioli place in over the gravy, then garnished with parsley, but you can do whatever you like. ;) *If you choose to add probiotics and let the cheese culture, the health benefits increase, as the "good bacteria" that is found in cultured foods is so good for the digestive and immune systems. Just be aware that the culturing will continue until the cheese is gone! Refrigerating will help to slow the process, but will not stop it completely. More on cultured nut mylks, yogurts and cheeses later... Something for the kids and the parents. My first day cooking for a family with small children, I created this recipe, and, thankfully, the kids were really into it. This is a great recipe for sneaking greens into little ones... and their parents.
Ingredients: 1 1/4 c. diced yellow onion (about 1/2 medium onion) 1/4 c. purified water 3 cloves garlic, sliced 1 t. coconut oil 4 c. diced tomato 2 large Lacinato kale leaves, chopped 1 1/4 c. diced cauliflower 1/2 c. plain rice mylk 1 T. fresh basil leaves, minced 1 T. nutritional yeast 1/8 t. sea salt 1/2 t. coriander cracked pepper to taste Directions: In a large pot, sweat the onions over a medium heat with the water. Add the garlic and coconut oil and allow to caramelize to a golden brown. Reduce the heat to medium low, add the tomatoes, cauliflower, rice mylk, basil, nutritional yeast, sea salt, coriander, and pepper. Cook covered for 10-15 minutes, until the cauliflower is softening. Remove the cover and increase the heat to medium, allowing the stew to thicken for 20- 25 minutes, adding the kale about 5 minutes before you remove the pot from the flame. Serve over brown rice or quinoa. |
AuthorAmanda has been teaching yoga, making (and eating) delicious raw/vegan food and coaching people for almost ten years. All that experience has taught her just how much there is still to learn, explore and discover. Archives
January 2016
Categories
All
|