I say this as if every weekend, every day in fact, has not been about food. It has been. But this weekend we made a special effort to sample some of the more delicious treats Jaipur has to offer. Under special recommendation by our Hindi teacher Rishi ji, Sophia and I embarked on a quest for food greatness.
Our first stop was Shreethal, a thali-lover's paradise. Thalis (plate in Hindi) are basically buffets brought to you ... you are sat down in front of a large plate full of smaller empty bowls, which are quickly filled with a wide array of dishes. Ours included a paneer curry, aloo (potato), daal, beans, a sweet soup, puris, rotis, pakora, chutney, and several things I couldn't even identify. The idea is to eat until you are satisfied (I reached that point... and then went for another round), so the bowls are continually replenished.
Next (and the next day mind you) we sought out the highly recommended and coveted pani puri at a sweet shop called Kanji. Before coming to India, everyone told me I either had to eat pani puri (they are the best) or I absolutely must not eat pani puri (you will surely get sick). Pani puri is a popular street dish that consists of a small puri (a crispy, puffy little fried bread) that is punctured and filled with tamarind, chili, chaat, potato, onion, and other ingredients depending on the recipe. The danger for us travelers is the final touch, the pani (or water) that is spiced and poured into the hollow puri. The vendor then thrusts the fresh pani puri at you, and you eat it immediately, sliding the whole thing into your mouth. You crunch down on the puri and the pani bursts in your mouth in an explosion of sweet and savory flavors. Just when you think it can't get any better, the vendor has made another and it's time for round two. and three. and four. and five.
And boy was the absolute indulgence in a food weekend direly needed. One chink in my emotional stability finally opened the floodgates, allowing India to truly assault me with all her traffic, disorganization, frustration, disappointment, smells, and stares. Oh, the stares. It's as if I am a creature from another universe, as if the people here have literally never seen anyone who looks like me in the history of creation. A passage from Shantaram, an action-filled novel set in Mumbai, puts it quite nicely:
"Foreigners were stared at in India. Somewhere in the five or more millennia of its history, the culture had decided to dispense with the casual, nonchalant glance. By the time I came to Bombay, the eye contact ranged from an ogling gaze to a gawping, goggle-eyed glare. There was nothing malicious in it. The staring eyes that found and followed me everywhere I went were innocent, curious, and almost always friendly. And that intense scrutiny had its benefits: for the most part, people stared at what I was, not what I did. Foreigners were stared at into invisibility" (549)
I can't really quite describe what a city street teeming with people all staring conspicuously at you feels like, I guess you'll just have to come to India and find out yourself. Make sure to take a bite of that pani puri if you do. Try not to get sick.
Our first stop was Shreethal, a thali-lover's paradise. Thalis (plate in Hindi) are basically buffets brought to you ... you are sat down in front of a large plate full of smaller empty bowls, which are quickly filled with a wide array of dishes. Ours included a paneer curry, aloo (potato), daal, beans, a sweet soup, puris, rotis, pakora, chutney, and several things I couldn't even identify. The idea is to eat until you are satisfied (I reached that point... and then went for another round), so the bowls are continually replenished.
Next (and the next day mind you) we sought out the highly recommended and coveted pani puri at a sweet shop called Kanji. Before coming to India, everyone told me I either had to eat pani puri (they are the best) or I absolutely must not eat pani puri (you will surely get sick). Pani puri is a popular street dish that consists of a small puri (a crispy, puffy little fried bread) that is punctured and filled with tamarind, chili, chaat, potato, onion, and other ingredients depending on the recipe. The danger for us travelers is the final touch, the pani (or water) that is spiced and poured into the hollow puri. The vendor then thrusts the fresh pani puri at you, and you eat it immediately, sliding the whole thing into your mouth. You crunch down on the puri and the pani bursts in your mouth in an explosion of sweet and savory flavors. Just when you think it can't get any better, the vendor has made another and it's time for round two. and three. and four. and five.And boy was the absolute indulgence in a food weekend direly needed. One chink in my emotional stability finally opened the floodgates, allowing India to truly assault me with all her traffic, disorganization, frustration, disappointment, smells, and stares. Oh, the stares. It's as if I am a creature from another universe, as if the people here have literally never seen anyone who looks like me in the history of creation. A passage from Shantaram, an action-filled novel set in Mumbai, puts it quite nicely:
"Foreigners were stared at in India. Somewhere in the five or more millennia of its history, the culture had decided to dispense with the casual, nonchalant glance. By the time I came to Bombay, the eye contact ranged from an ogling gaze to a gawping, goggle-eyed glare. There was nothing malicious in it. The staring eyes that found and followed me everywhere I went were innocent, curious, and almost always friendly. And that intense scrutiny had its benefits: for the most part, people stared at what I was, not what I did. Foreigners were stared at into invisibility" (549)
I can't really quite describe what a city street teeming with people all staring conspicuously at you feels like, I guess you'll just have to come to India and find out yourself. Make sure to take a bite of that pani puri if you do. Try not to get sick.
**all photo credits to my dear Sophia Maes
Lovely post Sarah. Great pictures Sophia. Chink in emotional stability, eh Batman? Delicious Indian food to the rescue.
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