To Veg or Not to Veg

I’m thinking of doing something crazy. I’m considering a strictly reduced diet when I get back.

Since I’ve been here I’ve eaten mostly Vegetarian (clipped nice and neat in most restaurants as “Veg”). I haven’t eaten red meat since I arrived (it’s not impossible to find here just haven't craved it) and the only animal meat I've eaten since arriving has been a bi-weekly chicken dish.  I don’t miss meat one bit. My energy is the same, I’m just as focused, nothing is off or horrible. My bones aren’t breaking. Yeah, this isn’t so bad.

I’ve been thinking about it for awhile and for a lot of reasons, but mostly they come down to political ones- particularly animal cruelty and climate change. I read an article on it about a week, mostly due to accident but my browser somehow finds it’s way to these articles. Here is the latest one I read.

Of course I never do very well with ultimatums; this is how I failed at quitting smoking for years. So in order to actually succeed I’ve come up with my boundaries and what I plan on modifying:

• I will continue to eat animal products. Sorry milk cows and cheese goats, your utters are just going to have to suffer. And no one is going to get me to give up butter. No way. But hey it's better than an electric prodder to your mouth and a sliced neck, wouldn't you say?  However, since I recently realized my allergy to eggs, you win out there chickens but fyi - I was a consumer of cage free eggs – least I could do, ya know?
• In my opinion fish are not animals. Plus I’ve bought dolphin safe tuna since I was 15, when it wasn’t even fashionable. I promise to buy free water fish, or whatever they are called. And I won’t buy the kinds that are being over fished. I promise you that.

Side note: In India, the fish markets are only open early morning or after dark. This is because the fish are kept fresh on ice wrapped in heavy cloth with salt on top. The heat would melt and spoil the ice so instead they only sell in non-direct heat. After dark you can watch old fashioned carts carried by hand wheeled up and down the streets taking the fish to market. It’s not uncommon for people to go at 9pm for their food shopping needs.

I will allow myself several indulgences. They are as follows:

•  Bacon
• Thanksgiving/xmas meat
• If all options fail and are out of my control, I won’t fret, I’ll just eat

 What?? Don't look at me like that.  Bacon is awesome.

October Reading

Another month already.  You can check out my longer reviews or more books on goodreads!  I'm loving it so far!  http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/2810793-aj

Black Echo
Black Ice
Concrete Blonde by Michael Connelly
This would be 3 books, the first three of the Harry Bosch Series. It’s not that I found a series that I loved but rather an awesome deal on Kindle: three books for the price of one. Harry was a little annoying in the first book and I didn’t start to understand him until book 3. I hate not being able to say a main character’s name (Bosk, Botch, Bousch, what is it?) and for the first book I had erroneously inserted a phantom “r” into his name calling him “Borsk” in my head the whole time. Anyway, the 3rd book is the best of the bunch, the series keeps on going, I won’t.

Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson
So I was so into finding a good detective series that I forgot my first love: fantasy/sci-fi series. This book was a nice reminder in the power of a good fantasy novel. It also hit the spot perfectly – I was in no mood to enter a whole new world the size and scope of a Martin or Jordan enterprise but I still wanted to be whisked away and entertained thoroughly. Enter the Mistborn prescription: I certainly felt completely compelled by these characters and enthralled with the world without feeling like I needed to reserve an entire section of my brain for trivia tidbits. Great read, worth the pickup. Sanderson will be completing the Wheel of Time Series which after reading Mistborn, I’m eager to pick up again.

The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins
Supposedly the grandfather of all mystery/detective novels, Wlikie Collins spins a great Halloween read in the 1850’s. Beautifully written (warning – will take you a few pages to get into the style) and amazingly interesting. I found it to be surprising. Then again I find most mysteries surprising. But this one really had you on a story you never expected when you opened the book and I don’t want to say where it goes for fear of spoilage. This was also the first book I read for my new online women’s bookclub via “goodreads.” Pretty good first pick!

Baltimore Blues by Laura Lippman
Oh another day another mystery detective series. This one is Tess Monaghan. I can say her name at least. I couldn’t get an image of her in my head though (described as amazon-ish, lanky, stocky, and muscled – as you can see I just wrote two pairs of antonyms) . It’s storyline wasn’t compelling and the main character kind of sucked. However her friends kind of rocked. I’ll probably pick up the next to give it a whirl – when I’m home and can grab it from the library.

NixonLand by Ron Perlstein
I learned a lot in this book which isn’t to say it was great. At times I felt he was rushing through to the end of a level in super mario brothers with the theme music chasing you down the last few seconds you had left to jump that final pipe…AH! Pages of facts and headline news articles were strewn together with very subjective commentary, which is fine if you are writing a thesis. The problem is that Perlstein throws out the idea and never really appropriately argues for it. I’m glad I read it because I had a lot of insight into the then, and the commonalities with now. I just wish I had more answers and lesser feelings of hate.

Dude, where's your floor?

I walked into my building today and the security guard stopped me to show me a piece of furniture that he said was mine.  He gave me paper, I told him I didn't order anything, he said it was my company.  I asked if I needed to sign anything.  This was all communicated in Hindi, and apparently poorly.

A guy standing there looked at me trying to figure out what was going on and jumped in to help communicate to the guy.  I thanked him, still unsure, took the paper, and walked toward the elevator.  The main security guy came out, saw the paper in my hands, said "nonono" took it, then I shrugged and got into the elevator.  The main security guy said something else to me so  I stepped out of the elevator, the english speaking dude  helped translate again and then we got into the elevator.  I pushed my floor and asked him what floor he was going to.  He pushed the floor before mine.

In the elevator he started to small talk me with the standard stock questions:  where you from?  Why are you here?  Where do you work?  What do you do?  You get the point.  He was a younger guy, not unattractive.  He said he worked at Chase bank and took a lot of calls from Boston people.  His name was Amit.  The door opened at his floor, he didn't get out.  The door closed.  I said, "you missed your floor:"  He smiled.

We got to my floor, and he got out with me.  It was only a few seconds later and he said "I'll walk up, my uncle is on the 16th."  Which was weird to me that he pushed the wrong button.  Then he asked if he could have a glass of water. 

"Oh, well, I don't have any filtered water."  I lied.
"That's ok."  He said.

By this time I was at my door with the door open, which unfortunately looked right into my big filtered water cooler completely full.

"Oh, they must have replaced it."  I said  I kept the door open and got him a glass, standing in the doorway.  Just then my phone rang.  It was security.  Security and I always have a 5 minute conversation in 2 different languages and I never know what the heck the point of the call was.  Something was different this time -- after a few minutes he said, "I'm coming" and hung up.

In the meantime Amit was very nice, casual, giving me tips on commuincating with indians "use hand signals!  It helps."  I nodded. 

"Why are you here to see your uncle?"  I asked.
"For Money."  He said honestly.
"Well, I'm going to go grab a drink."  I lied, grabbing my bag and keyes and shutting the door.  I suddenly felt exposed with my living area open.  Just then security came up.  Lots of Hindi resumed.

I walked down to the lobby with security because he kept pointing at me and I suddenly did want a drink. 

In the lobby Amit started talking with the security people.  He pointed at me, they pointed at me, and he said, yes, they said no.  More Hindi.  Voices were now raised.  2 other men gathered around, none of which spoke english apparently.  One looked at me and shook his head, as if in sympathy with my plight, which I knew nothing about.  Finally in the middle of the yelling I said, "Amit, what is going on?"

"They are telling me my Uncle isn't here and I have to go."  I'm not stupid, I knew that he was using me to gain access to the building and security had already decided not to let him up but he must have told them when I walked in that he knew me.  But I was morbidly curious on what was going on and what his motivation was to be there so i decided to stay.  Finally he looked at me and said, "did you want to go for a drink?"

"Yes, I'm going to go next door, you are welcome to join me, but i'm only having one."  I planned to confront him over a drink, try to get out the real story. 

"Are you having beer or wine?"
"I don't know."
"Let's exchange phone numbers."
"Ok" I said, thinking that if nothing else, I'd have some way to track the guy if in the future the apartment building asked questions about him.
"Do you want to go over to another bar?"
"No."
Silence.
"So, you want to go to the bar?  You don't want to order in beer or wine and stay upstairs?"
"No, I want to go out."
"So are you having beer or wine?"  I racked my brain trying to remember if roofies disolved faster in one or the other while thinking does this guy want to date me or does he want one of my kidneys?

"Look,"  I said, going from curious to exasperated faster than I knew possible, "I'm going to have a drink. Right there.  I am having one, then I'm going home.  Alone.  If you want to join me you are welcome.  If not, thanks for your translation help."

"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Amit, you are being kind of weird."
"I'll get some ATM Money and meet you!" 
"Um, ok."

I sat down at the bar, pulled out my kindle, and hoped I would be left alone in peace.  I got my wish.

The Effect of The ‘Bama

Most Americans, regardless of political affiliation, are aware of how the election of Barack Obama has heightened the world view of the US. I too, was similarly aware of the notion that it would somehow increase our standing abroad.

Living abroad, and seeing it in actuality, provide a much different viewpoint on the subject.

I’d be doing an injustice to remain silent on the subject; its effect is so pervasive it’s actually necessary for me to discuss. It’s important to note that it is not at all about Obama’s policies, his diplomacy, or his leadership that lead to these emotions of him, it’s simply who he is that brings about such passion. I run the risk of sounding cliché when I speak of it and it troubles me because it’s such a tangible essence that it needs to be taken seriously. Obama’s election reminded people what America stood for, it reinvigorated the American ideal and dream; it made hope attainable.

Hope is something that most Americans attribute to better living: higher salary, ultimate leisure and consumerism, and an identifiable place in society. These are not necessarily ungallant notions or goals, but it is easy for us to forget what the hope of others might be as we live out our lives. I do not put myself above this, in fact I put myself smack in the fray. My political machinations, my idea of success, my ultimate goals for happiness are things I only categorize as living my life in the united states. It doesn’t make me or anyone else in america less or more of a person, it only makes us unattached to the trials of others.

While some of my realization on the subject has happened when speaking with Indians, a great more of it has happens while I have spoken with expats. It’s easy to forget that almost every country has a minority or in worse cases a suppressed population with their rights varying depending on the situation. Some are dealing with social and financial disparity, others still with slavery, exile, and genocide. Sometimes my conversations will with foreigners travels to politics and in some cases they engage in a lively discussion. More often than not, their eyes glaze over – until the subject of Obama is broached. This is when many an eye lights up. Most conversations go in such a similar fashion that I find it remarkable that of all the differences in the world there seems to be one equal sentiment.

“Obama!” Head shaking. “Unbelievable.”

“Unbelievalbe how?” I ask fearing a litany of anti war rhetoric.

“That America…that you elected this man. America, it is the leader of all things in the world. And America, has elected this man, a minority! You’ve changed everything for everyone else in the world. You…America, you have changed everything!”

I paraphrase many a conversation and I hope I have not done any of them a disservice, but when I hear those words, I can’t help but get emotional and a bit prideful. Obama isn’t the answer to the world’s problems, and I think what politicians and a lot of people don’t get is that it’s not the POINT. He represents an idea of human equality. He represents the overthrow of human oppression. And in America, while we continue to fight along political frontlines and rumble about millions vs. billions, the rest of the world sees something much more in his election by a white majority.  They see us, for all our remonstrations and perversions, as an idea that works.  Not even just for americans in america, but maybe...just maybe...for them too.

Insomnia top 5 list for tonight (male actors)

India has given me insomnia.  When I can't sleep I try to come up with top 5 lists.  Tonight's idea was inspired by some of the very handsome Indian men on TV and movies here.  I don't know or can't remember any of their names.  But in honor of them I have reworked my top 5 male actor list.  It's important to note that this list also has bearing on an actor's ability to act as well as his looks.  For instance Zac Efron - super cute - but acting chops suck and therefore I find less attractive.  The last time I made such a list of actors I was in high school and it went like this:

Old Skool:
1) Edward Furlong
2) Eric Stoltz
3) Kyle Maclachlan
4) Leonardo Dicaprio
5) Bhaltzer Ghetty (yes, seriously)

Anyway, moving on to modern times:

New Skhool:**
1) Alexander Skarsgard
2) Jamie Bamber (thank you BSG towel scene)
3) Jonathan Rhys Meyers
4) Ed Westwick
5) Michael Vartan

God, i'm all about european white actors in suits.  Need to find some diversity. 

**Seth Green is always on the top of any list but given his given status, I didn't include him.

Daily oddities

Here are some things that happened to me over the past week:

- My office was under the false impression that I practiced Islam. It’s a weird thing to mistake. It’s ironic too since most people in the US office assume I’m Jewish. Anyway, the food here is very fattening. I’ve had to have Anand cut back on cooking since I jumped up about 10 lbs. my first month – I now eat fruits, raw veggies, and yogurts and light sandwiches for dinner and only eat Anands heavy ghee, oil, cream, curry and chapati lunches. While this has brought me back down in weight, I am apparently considered to be “fasting” and therefore some religious mistakes have occurred.

- I’ve made multiple attempts to befriend my expat neighbors. However, whenever I go up to the 18th floor (which contains 3 doors to different apts) no one answers any of them. I will say that at first I only tried one door per visit in an attempt to narrow down which flat they were located in. I’m now at the point of pure frustration and buzz on everyone one in the span of 10 seconds - with no door openings. Fail.

- I’m probably going to go see a movie every weekend going forward. The movie theatre is right next door. I went yesterday to see Inglorius Basterds (and don’t nitpick me on spelling…that’s what you get for giving your movie a messed up title) and the theatre has these big plush red arm chairs that you can practically lay down in w/ recline - AND stadium seating. It’s immense. And so comfy!!! I loved it. Hopefully most amerian movies will be playing in one of the "Red Lounge" theatres.  So cool.

- I’ll never get used to the sideways head nod which denotes acquiescence but to me looks like a very strong negation. There is nothing like explaining a process to someone and having them sit there and look at you shaking their head back and forth. “What don’t you understand?” I’ll ask in my most patient voice I can muster. And they look at me with confusion – “I understand” they say and then I remember that shaking heads no mean yes.

- Trying to book a last minute mini vacation for the weekend since it’s Diwali. I’m slightly motivated by my security guy who keeps asking me about Diwali and some weird thing about a tip or 3000 rupees. I have no idea what the hell he is saying to me. I figure leaving would be best – no confusion and no tip/present requirement. Ok, that’s not really why I am motivated but it’s still weirding me out.  I’m excited to get out of Mumbai though, breathe some halfway decent air (no offense to Mumbai peeps but it's true, this place does not have clean air).

Top 5

Here is my Top 5 list for Mumbai!

1) Food. I love the taste, but especially the smell. If you are walking down the street and catch a whiff you almost want to clobber your way through to wherever the smell is emanating from in order to stuff it down your throat. And yes, if you happened to have caught my company news article I lied. I didn’t know what else to write, it was a political nightmare. The food here is amazing and I love it.

2) It’s very colorful here! Not only are the streets filled with people in amazing Saris and Salwars, cars and trucks are even decorated to the hilt. There are splashes of pinks, reds, purples, gold, greens, yellows – any color you can think of and it’s everywhere. And these are not the muted choreographed colors of 1st world countries, it’s a bold pop. Additionally between stall colors and posters and carts set up on the road showing off their colorful jewelry or fruit or other wares, it is surrounding and encompassing. It’s lively and it’s invigorating and it makes me happy.

3) I’m sure in a city of 22 million there are shady and mean characters. However, I have been fortunate to run into only the opposite. India has a cultural understanding of ‘hospitality’ and people are generous with their time, food, and other material possessions. If you say you like something, they ask you if you want it or if they can get you something similar. If you say, “I wish I could cook Indian food like this.” They invite you over to their house so their wife can teach you her method. They are indeed genuinely worried that you feel comfortable and happy in their country.

4) Mumbai has a lot of foreign investors paying a lot of mind to it. It is the 3rd highest growing real estate market in the world and it has a ton of cheap labor and highly skilled services available. It makes the city pulse with a clearly different type of national and international feeling. Most of India tends to be regionalized but here it seems so many people of different cultures, classes, nationalities, etc. are mixing. While the aesthetics are something left to be desired, the cosmopolitan feel cannot be. It’s easy to find a European in a coffee shop or an Australian sitting next to you at dinner. Sometimes you talk to what you think is a Mumbai native and they end up being from London or some exotic South Continent locale. It’s surprising but also educational. And people are friendly and willing to talk, not at all like the stuffy New England area.

5) I hope I don’t come off as a prick but I really do enjoy having someone to help me with household chores. I’m a notoriously hateful cleaner. I dislike it so much that I hire people to do it for me at home – and that’s just cleaning my house. I still have to do dishes and laundry myself. So having someone cook, clean, go shopping do my laundry, and bring me hot lunches every day – well let’s just say it’s nice to see how the other side lives. Even if only for a few months.

For Nana

Hind (Nana) Matthews died yesterday. My heart hurts.

Since I only ever knew one of my grandparents, Nana and Tom were the perfect surrogate pair. Nana herself was a funny and amazing woman. She was born in Baghdad, grew up in Beirut, lived in India, Egypt, Turkey, and Switzerland (among other places), went to college in Paris, and finally moved to California to do her doctorate at Stanford. From there she and Tom somehow landed in Elmira, NY where they met my parents. And when Nana was offered a job as a school psychologist in Williamsport, PA she recommended my father for the same position.

So I guess in a way my whole life was shaped by Nana.

I remember her as a foundation to every aspect of growing up. From the fact that my mother had dinner at her house the night she went into labor with me (and incidentally my sister as well), to me not eating from either my mom or dad so Nana would come over every day and feed me, to having Nana and Tom a part of every family occasion and being a part of every Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner (Nana had a habit of falling asleep at the table after a big meal), they were an integral part of our family structure.

There are little things as well, things that have infinitely changed and molded me and I’ll never be able to fully verbalize or understand. And there are things which will always be a part of me on such a deep and profound level that I will never forget them.

Nana and Tom were travlers, and up until a few years ago would always go to an exotic location between trips to Iraq or Seattle to visit their respective families. It was common knowledge that they were world afficiados and a very common question from mutual friends would be, "Where did Hind and Tom go this year?" Most of these trips brought home small memento for my sister and me as well as evenings sitting infront of the slide projectors reliving their experiences.

One of my most comforting memories of Nana was at my father’s funeral. We had a service in Williamsport and then we drove to Pine Grove (2 hours away) to bury him. When we returned from the long drive we were greeted with the eerie quiet of the house, the first time we had been there alone since my father had died several days before. We all sat at the dining room table (Mom, Nan, Shawna, and me) with Nana and Tom where we had shared so many dinners and time together. And we just sat in silence and reverie. But having them there took away the loneliness and anxiety of entering a new phase of life in that house and made us remember our friends would always be near.

Nana had sharp wit and usually made comments that would send an entire room into hysterics. However, my favorite memories of Nana circled around food. She was an amazing cook and would create these middle eastern feasts of Moussaka, Kibi, Kheema, Taboleh, and other middle eastern delicacies. She made this green bean dish that was to die for and everyone who ate it could not believe how good it tasted. No matter how many times you made it though it never tasted the way the recipe was written. So finally I asked her, “Nana, can you teach me this recipe?” She said, “what’s to teach, it’s easy.” So I said, ok, let’s go through the ingredients. Beans, onions, tomatoes, garlic?” She said, "Yes, that’s it." “That’s all Nana? Nothing else?” “No nothing else.” “So do you add any spices?”

To which her head snapped at me with an incredulous look. “Of COURSE you add Spices!” She almost shouted.

“Err, okay, like what?” I asked shyly.

“Well…OBVIOUSLY, you would add Cinnamon, nutmeg, mace, cloves…” I smiled in spite of her serious tone while furiously writing down the long list of 'obvious' ingredients.

I'll miss you Nana. I'm so sorry I can't be there to properly say goodbye to you.

September Reading

Oh, wow have I really read all these books since my last post?

Outlander (by Diana Gabaldon)
As stated somewhere else (here? Twitter? Fb? I dunno…) while being away from home I have found that I feel comforted by series and have therefore been striving to find a good one. This isn’t it. Too romantic and at times it felt like I was watching torture porn -- except I was reading it. I got through the whole thing but will not be picking up the remaining 6 books in the series. I seem to remember my mom liking this book which, I won’t lie, skeeves me out.

The Picture of Dorian Gray (by Oscar Wilde)
Okay, so I ordered the kindle edition for 2 reasons: 1) it was free and 2) I admit, the character in League of Extraordinary Gentleman enticed me enough to give it a whirl. God that movie sucked. But the book was pretty fabulous. First of all, the writing was just pure joy to read. I felt like I was actually learning to be a better writer while reading and I also just enjoyed the way Wilde put sentences together. Second, it treated it’s readers as intelligent beings and it left a lot to the imagination. And third, beyond my own intentions, the characters grabbed me and I found myself equally sympathetic and detesting them at the same time. Short, well written, and a nice reminder on the perils of vanity.

Already Dead (by Charlie Heston)
Another vampire novel? I originally ordered it b/c it was part of a series. This one was written as a PI Noir case. The language was too forced, the dialogue was not quoted and it became confusing. And the world just wasn’t that interesting. So big fail on this one. Will not be picking up another of the series.

1st to Die (by James Patterson)
Why the hell is this man so rich? It really pisses me off to see these craptastic writers become huge millionaires. Anyway this is his woman’s club murder series and I thought I’d give it a chance, partly because I like murder mysteries from the POV of a woman investigator and partly because it was a series. (See the theme?). Please refer to sentence #1 for my feelings on this book. Another series I will not be reading.

Are you there Chelsea? It’s me, Vodka (by Chelsea Handler)
Ok, this girl would be a great riot if you fed her a few cocktails, got her into a party dress, and took her out with you. Reading her book though was not nearly as fun. Her attutide came across as false and forced, her voice was a little too smug. I didn’t make it all the way through but I’m sure I could probably sketch her life out by watching her show for a few nights. Which is what I’ll do if I ever get curious on how it ended.

I’ve been reading a few political novels very slowly, I hope to finish them in the next few week in an attempt to make my next book post more bourgeois.