“The Forbidden Book of Recipes"

Chapter 1 of “The Forbidden Book of Recipes That My Host Dad Assures Me No American Would Ever Eat (as found in my host family’s kitchen, stolen, and translated by me) ™.

#600 Breaded Ears

Preparation: 15 minutes. Baking: 2 hours.
Ingredients: 6 ears, 1 litre of thin broth, breadcrumbs, 75 g of butter, salt, and red pepper.

Cook the ears for 2 hours in a thin broth of mulled white wine. Leave to cool in the liquid. Go and without draining the breaded sauce, grill with sprinkling melted butter. Salt and pepper it. Serve very hot.

Eliza strikes again, please excuse the formatting snafus

Good rainy afternoon to you all from KB.
I also love reading your posts - Sarah, sounds like el campo was a very
interesting experience. I have comparatively little to relate.
Classes are going well, although I have my first test in one of them
this thursday that may be a bit of a challenge. In my "Family
Analysis" class this week, we spent two entire classes talking about
the hookup culture that exists at our school. It was kind of a
sintillating conversation, but also very awkward. I have my first show
on wcni this tuesday morning from 6-9, so that should be slightly
nerve-wrracking. (note to self: BUY CAFFEINATED BEVERAGE THE DAY
BEFORE!)
I thought I should tell you all also that I am officially not going
abroad. I've thought about it long and hard and talked to people about
it, and now that the application deadline passed yesterday, my decision
is final. There are a bunch of reasons that I don't need to go into
right now, but one of the main ones is that I want to do an internship
in a city that is not near home next summer, and I would be putting a
lot of pressure on myself if I learned first a new country, than a new
city immediately when I got home. I figure I can go out of the country
later, and am overall pretty satisfied with my decision. The good
news: I won't have to wait a full year to see you guys again!
Anyway, I gotta go do reading, but keep up the postings and have fun!
E

Oh Sarah...

I don't have much to report in this update other than that I just got a package from my mom containing a basket filled with Trader Joe's snacks.

It sure was fun convincing the guy at the post office that Jake Stolar and Jacob Stolar were the same person!

PIZZA

I finally made it to Pizza Hut tonight. I am relieved to report that this is one part of Western cuisine that India has managed not to screw up. Sure, it's mass-produced greasy junk, but oh my god it tasted heavenly.

This past month has really made me appreciate how lucky we are to live in a nation of immigrants. I do enjoy Indian food, but it's beginning to seem like every restaurant has the exact same menu. It's chicken, paneer, and/or vegetables drenched in a very spicy sauce. If you want to really go crazy, you can order Chinese food! I hope you like fried rice.

I had gotten so spoiled by having the options of so many different ethnic cuisines available to me at any given time. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the Italians, Greeks, Mexicans, Jews, and everyone else who decided America would be a swell place to live. You really can't appreciate it until you spend an extended period of time in a place where food choice is so limited.

In non-food related news, we had another short trip this weekend. The highlight for me was climbing approximately one zillion steps to see a gigantic statue of an important figure in Jainism whose name I have already forgotten. The better part came when I was discovered by a gaggle of Indian kids. The oldest one, who spoke pretty good English, informed me that they were fascinated by my hair. I guess curly hair doesn't often make an appearance in this country. We spent the trip down the stairs discussing the differences between cricket and baseball.

We also saw some cool temples that were pretty much like the other one I described previously, so I'm not going to rehash it again. I'm now looking forward to the Desara festival next week. We have a week off from school, and I plan to spend a whole bunch of time downtown getting crushed between thousands of tourists. Should be fun.

Let's just pretend Eliza posted this and not me

Hello from KB!
I haven't figured out how to work the posting part of this site yet, so
just pretend that this was posted by me, Eliza. I miss you all like
hell, but I'm surviving so far. My room is probably the awesomest room
on campus: in the corner in the back of the dorm, with two windows and
plenty of room. The first floor actually isn’t that loud, either,
though there have been any kegs yet. Even those aren’t supposed to be
that bad, although of course everyone will be using our bathroom. I’m
floor rep this year (last year I was beat out by a freshman), so I get
to go to house council, which is pretty cool. Moving with Brenna was a
super idea, because it has been really great to have a friend down the
hall.
My classes are all pretty reading-intensive, but what was I expecting?
They’re all ones that will go toward my major and English minor. I
didn’t take any random ones this semester so that I could afford still
to go abroad credit-wise if I chose to next semester. I’ve just found
out tonight that I will be having a radio show, 6:00-9:00 am on
Tuesdays (eastern standard time), so if you guys happen to be near a
computer at the equivalent time, wcni.org! I don’t actually know if I
start next Tuesday, but I’ll let you know.
This is a pretty generalized update, but I swear I’ll get better at
posting regularly. Hope this finds you all well!
E

Food poisoning RULES!

I don't have much to say here except that should you ever be in Mysore, do NOT order the Prawn Curry at the Hotel Sandesh's restaurant. Last night sure was tons of fun.

Top Ten Questions

1. Why is there no shower curtain in the bathroom? Why not have one so that I can just shower in the morning without having to mop up the floor?
2. Why is there porno at everywhere (Ok, I’m not that surprised by that)?
3. Why and how do I look French? (Seriously guys I’m having the complete opposite experience as you, from reading the posts, it seems that by pure chance I blend in completely. I don’t know how, but it’s a little embarrassing sometimes. Random people come up to me in the metro or on the street and ask me for directions, or about how to buy a Carte Orange, or cigarettes in French. Its really embarrassing when you don’t know what they’re saying because they’re speaking way fast and with a lot of slang, and you kind of just sit there dumbly and say “uhhhhhhhh”. But sometimes I can answer them. For example, “The Eiffel Tour? Its really…wherever you want it to be.” My first day here, these two 9 year old kids came up to me and asked me for cigarettes, and I couldn’t understand them at all until they acted it out. Weird. But I guess my accent is not that bad, so maybe I can pass for French?)
4. Why can’t the Euro be slain by the Benjamin Franklin so that everything, food, wine, orangina (the essentials) won’t be so expensive?
5. Why is wine less expensive than a bottle of water? How the hell does that make sense?
6. How is it that my host mother or father can go into the kitchen, make dinner in maybe 10 minutes on something that would take me hours to do?
7. What is that distinct odour that lives in the metro, and do I want to know what it is?
8. Don’t French men realise that catcalls and shit like that does nothing? (The woman’s not going to turn around smiling and say, “Are you talking to me?”. I see it all the time on the metro and when I’m out with people. I suppose its sort of a Latin thang as I can see by one of Sarah’s posts. )
9. Why have I still not seen Absinthe?
10. Why must I ask questions…?
And.....Publish!

Coorg Light

We got back yesterday from a trip to the region of Coorg. Someone apparently told Mother Nature that Americans were coming, and she decided to unleash the remanants of monsoon season on us. Despite that, it was pretty cool seeing an old Hindu temple on top of a mountain in the mist and rain.

The not so cool part came when I got back to the entrance of the temple and discovered that I had forgotten to put my sneakers under shelter. They were completely soaked. I had to purchase the World's Most Uncomfortable Flip Flops in Coorg as a temporary replacement. Apparently the selection of footwear in a size 12 is rather limited in this country.

Despite that fiasco, we made up for it the next day. After spending the first part of the day washing, feeding, and riding elephants (details to follow), we went to a Tibetan community about a half hour away from there. We were lucky enough to get into the monastery and sit in on some sort of Buddhist ritual. There were about 150 monks in training sitting at long tables and rythmically chanting something in a language none of us could identify (Pali?). Every so often someone would crash two cymbals together, or blow a horn. We also got to see one trainee, who couldn't have been older than 15, get whacked with a belt for slipping up at one point. We watched for about 20 minutes, and who knows how long this had been going on before we got there? I don't think I'll be tempted by the monk lifestyle anytime soon.

As for the elephants, it turns out they can move more stealthily than you might imagine. I almost got rear-ended by one down by the banks of the river. We got to wash them (their skin feels like very tough leather; apparently a tiger can't bite through it) and ride them. Some people fed them, but I have a strict policy against sticking my hand into the mouth of any creature than can kill me by stepping on me.

Now we're back in Mysore to continue this crazy "school" thing they expect us to do.

Reading Sarah's comments about constantly feeling like an outsider, it's pretty much the exact same thing here. Whenever I go out, I either get stared at or laughed at. It doesn't help that Indians tend to dress up more than we do. I feel like a total slob whenever I wear a t-shirt.

Most of the white people that come through this region are French, according to Brodkin, so not many native speakers of English. Pretty much everyone wants to practice their English with me as soon as they realize I'm a native speaker. This can be irritating sometimes, but cool at others. I had an interesting conversation with a guy in Coorg about the differences between American and British accents, which are apparently indistinguishable to Indians.

And now the suspense of pressing the "publish" button and hoping it actually works. Drumroll...

Sorry For the Flurry

Thank you Starbucks (Stahrbooox en français). Thank you ever so much for the free wireless internet access and the fact that you are located in between la appartement and la metro Cour St. Emilion which I have to take every day to school, and the fact that the frappacino chocolat moyen I am drinking is delicious and full of French cream. So I haven’t got too bad of a setup here. It’s been a rough week adjusting to the city, and not being able to speak English, and getting around dans la metro, my suitcase handle broke on the second day, and orientation and all that jazz. I don’t think there’s anybody near me, so I dunno, I’m kinda lonely and having difficulty making friends because we are all so separated, but I’ll manage I think. Speaking French is actually easier than I anticipated, and it is really cool to go into, for example, a Starbucks and order something, and have them not know that secretly I am an American. People seem to understand me, and me them, but I really don’t know if they can detect the American accent at all. People come up to me randomly and speak French, and I can answer them as if I actually live here. Or maybe that’s what I’m thinking? But its weird, people in the L’auberge where I stayed Monday (Tuesday?) didn’t think I was American, rather Canadian or English. Interesting isn’t it? The IES program looks really well run, and the courses look interesting that I want to take. Still don’t know whether I can join an orchestra, but I asked my academic advisor, and she said she would make some phone calls to see about it.
So its my 21st birthday. And I’m sitting here in Starbucks with a frap and piece of chocolate cake and singing happy birthday to myself. Pathetic, I know, but I’m having dinner with my host family tonight, and then afterwards I don’t know. There was talk of going out to the Quartier Latin with some people at lunch today but I can never be sure. We were told today that if you drink in your room, you can be considered an alcoholic by French standards, so maybe I’ll go out to a bar and drink myself happy. In any case I’m here for my Birthday, Halloween, All Saint’s Day, Thanksgiving, Kathryn’s birthday, Christmas and New Year’s, so I probably can’t or shouldn’t worry about BIG days too much. Anyway, à bientôt.

Paris

Vivre la France! I arrived god awful early in the morning here on tuesday, and had some adventures getting to my youth hostel in Monmartre, but I manged to seduce the man in the ticket office into getting me on the right train. Hostel was 4 or 5 blocks away from the Moulin Rouge, and man what sketchtastic place that is. So what do I do on my first night in France? I got drunk off red wine with 5 australians, a dane, two slovaks, and 3 canadiennes. Met host family yesterday, seem very nice and are able to understand me, and me them, and they don't speak english, things are a little stressful. have a room near the Seine. Its a lot like Freshman orientation for the next week until classes start (completely in french!). Everything is little frightening and a little exciting at the same time. Have to wrap up because its costing me 10 euros to use wifi in my room for two hours. Mon dieu, il est très chère! I have free Wifi at school, so I will write more there whenever I get there. A bientôt.

You may now address me as "your majesty"

For I have apparently conquered one of yoga's ultimate challenges: the King of All Poses. This is the one that involves leaving your neck on the ground and raising pretty much everything else up into the air. You know it's great because you have to do a counter-exercise immediately after it to prevent blood pooling in your brain.

Aside from flirting with unconciousness, it's been an eventful past few days. We spent Monday visiting the summer residence of Tipu Sultan, a Muslim ruler of the state of Mysore who led one of the most effective anti-British resistance movements. We also stopped by a little shack to see sugar being made (the smell is absolutely legendary) and visited an 800 year old temple that had been desecrated by Muslim invaders. The architecture really is spectacular, with hundreds of little figures carved into the stone walls of the temple. I'll post pictures once my Internet connection stops sucking, which is scheduled to occur in the year 2054.

This weekend we're going to a temple where we'll be blessed by elephants. The hits just keep on coming.

P.S: Eliza, Adrian, George, post something! It doesn't hurt, I promise.

Whoaaa, a post by someone other than me. Unreal.

Tomorrow I'm going as part of a shopping expedition to help buy a sari for the wife of our host here in Mysore. I figure as long as I'm out and about I'll buy stuff for others as well. What do people want?