June 22, 2011
If you have traveled out of your comfort zone you are familiar with the feeling – or lack of feeling may be a better way to describe it. As if floating in a ruse state, because what is happening is undoubtedly marking the calendar of your life, but it just doesn’t feel like much of anything, like it’s fake somehow. Like you are looking in at your life through a dirty window. Your own peeping Tom. A shifty sort of place that hovers between your normal comfortable life and your proud albeit unstable adventurous life. It’s like survival mode but less intense. Even waking up with a wretched hangover or allergic reaction doesn’t really hurt, even though you know it must.
Then… BAM. A JOLT. Something stark happens and it tosses you out of the haze and then drops you like a load of bricks into your circumstances. Thankfully all the while, because here is when you start noticing the details that cling together to create your experience.
The thick scent of burning rubbish mingling with the salty smell of the sea reminds me of what beef jerky tastes like. This morning as I brushed my teeth, I watched the neighborhood kids take turns pulling buckets of water from the well. I rinsed my toothbrush in running tap water and put it back in its shell. A debate immediately arises when the sound of hard fruit clunks against the roof tiles and disturbs the conversation. “Coconut.” “No, no. Mango.” I am picking up the India head-wag without trying. At first it was against my will, but last night I got a compliment, “You have a cute way of doing that thing, man.”
Bollywood is not alone in the breadth of Indian film culture. Regional languages and cinematic innovations have followed, launching Tollywood, Rollywood, Malluwood and others. I work with film fanatics. During the tourist season, Goa hosts massive parties where thousands of people can be found dancing until dawn on a secluded beach or remote hilltop with an immodest sound system. The ex-pat community is far less accepting than the local Goans. Kingfischer Strong is my evening cocktail of choice although the local port wine that comes in a handy plastic bottle is growing on me.
The Indian Press is like the US media on tabloid steroids. Imagine FOX News with more flashy video effects and stunning Bombay elites adorned with jewels as newscasters. The electricity goes out so often that the first thing I do when I get home in the evening is sling my headlamp around my neck. The rats are bigger than cats and they are quite bold. The have no problem to sit and stare at me from behind a twitchy nose; scrappy paws resting on fat bellies. My maid – what a strange experience to have a maid – is an amazing vegetarian cook. Sautéed Okra with red chili. Curried chickpeas. Garlic potato, plump peas and shredded cabbage simmered in ripe tomatoes. Rich traditional dal with a hint of coconut sweetness. Lentils stewed in ginger and onions. Fluffy basmati rice and hand made roti, warm and moist with oil.
My office days are filled with laughter. A witty British accent. A soft spoken newlywed with henna hands and shiny bangles. A pleasant French researcher who is always smiling. A pair of cultured female editors with dark eyes, stylish clothes, intelligent commentary and a passion for film. A jovial long haired urban fellow with a twinkle in his eye that I can’t pin down; its either mischievous or joyous, but perhaps its both. A quiet but assertive young woman fresh from university with smooth dark skin and a talent for bargaining. A volunteer from Jordan with a lengthy history in acting, an endearing brand of ditsy-ness and an adventurous spirit. A film critic from Bangalore with a bulky mustache, tousled hair and square glasses; he reminds me of a sophisticated Bollywood version of Burt Reynolds. A shy former “office boy” turned web programmer who is too humble for his talent and makes the best chai of anyone in the office, hands down. We are not exactly a motley crew but as I find myself spending more and more time with them outside of the office, I am certainly becoming part of a quirky crew indeed.
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