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VESL

Saturday, October 1st, 2011

VESL has updated its website (www.vesl.org). Please check it out! And look out for blog posts by me!

Many of you reading this blog know exactly how much fun can be had out in Sri Lanka or India on a VESL project, because you’ve read my stories about my experiences.

And I’m hoping that next year, when I finish my course I’ll be scooting away again to have more fun. I might try Thailand this time. Then again, I have so many really good friends in India and Sri Lanka who I’d love to see again. We’ll see what happens closer to the time.

But, if you are interested, or know of anyone else who might be interested in spending some time doing some voluntary work, experiencing another culture and having a load of fun in the process then please check out the VESL site.

Who knows! I might see you out there! :)

Posted in India, Sri Lanka, Teaching | No Comments »

Strange Photos On A Laptop

Monday, July 25th, 2011

Now this was a very strange experience.

I went out for dinner with some friends. One brought his laptop with him. Not sure why. But he did.

And while we were sitting in the restaurant waiting for our food, he was showing various people various things on his laptop. Photos from the last time I was there. Amusing Pixar animations. That sort of thing.

Anyway, I was standing behind him looking at some photos of my last visit (he’d called me over to look at them).

He then changed folders and looked at another folder of photos. This time, photos taken by his brother. And a sub-folder from when his brother had been working in Iraq (for the American military). And then a sub-folder called ‘Bodies’.

I should have walked away as soon as I saw the title. I guess I just didn’t believe that the it was possible that he was about to show me photos of dead bodies that his brother had taken in Iraq.

Anyway, after the first photo nearly made me throw up the dinner I hadn’t eaten yet. I ran back round to the other side of the table to sit down and take deep breaths and try to get the image out of my head.

It was horrid.

Horrid for many reasons.

  • Horrid because it was a photo of someone who had been killed in a very violent manner and my belief in the preciousness of human life does not allow me to look lightly on images of dead bodies.
  • Horrid because despite my knowledge that these things happen, I still find it difficult to believe that human beings can be so terrible to each other.
  • Horrid because I could not work out why this photo had been taken. I can understand a journalist who is reporting on a situation taking photos to show the world what is happening. But a tourist (well, effectively a tourist) taking photos of bodies? I can understand that some people may want trophy photos. I think it is a disgusting, inhuman, horrific thing to want to do, but I can understand that there are some people who are disgusting, inhuman and horrific. But I can’t understand why someone who is a nice, lovely, non-combatant would take these photos. But I haven’t spoken to him about it so I don’t know if he did have a good reason for taking and keeping the photos.
  • Horrid because I could not understand why my friend would possibly want to look at these photos and share them with other people, at my farewell dinner, at a restaurant, mere minutes before our food was due out. His brother may have had legitimate reasons for taking the photos in the first place but my imagination completely fails me in trying to work out any reason (legitimate or otherwise) for why anyone would think that showing these photos to me was an appropriate thing to do in such circumstances.

This might be a cultural difference. This might be my oversensitivity to violence (I have lived a very sheltered life and I have not become desensitised to the inhumanity in the world). Or this might be that he and I have just misjudged each other. I don’t know.

I was also quite surprised at how surprised he was at my reaction. I guess he wasn’t expecting me to react at all in the way I did. I don’t know what he was expecting. His brother seemed quite concerned for me. His wife turned her face away from the screen in disgust.

He then tried to show me amusing photos and optical illusions to make me feel better. It didn’t work.

Posted in Culture, India | No Comments »

Strange Photos On Indian Mobile Phones

Monday, July 25th, 2011

Elaine and I were fortunate enough to be shown some of the photos that one of Johny’s friends had on his mobile phone.

Johny’s friend is an Indian male in his early 20s. So you’d expect photos of some famous people (actors (or heroes as they are called), cricketers, etc). Probably some pictures of some girls: actresses, singers etc.

Well, you’d be nearly right.

There were indeed photos of his favourite heroes (from Malayalam, English, Tamil and Hindi movies). And in some of the photos, they were fully clothed. But not most. Most of the photos were of topless men. Some were photos of men from the shoulder to the hip. I kid you not. He had a collection of photos of six packs.

Elaine and I were a little surprised. But this guy had, for a time, aspired to have a six pack of his own. (It seems he didn’t do quite enough gym work to make it pan out.) So I guess the photos could have been research and/or aspiration/motivation.

But the interesting thing wasn’t that he had the photos as much as the fact that neither he nor Johny could understand why we were surprised. It seems a perfectly natural thing for them. They didn’t try to defend the photos.

I can’t work out if that’s because Indian men are more at ease with their own sexuality and therefore do not feel threatened by other people knowing that they have pictures of half-naked men on their phones. Or if homosexuality is so non-existent (or rather, so hidden) that it is inconceivable to them that anything that they do or say could hint at homosexuality.

Whatever the rationale, it was certainly interesting.

Posted in Culture, India | No Comments »

St Thomas Revisited

Thursday, July 21st, 2011

When I was in India the first time I was at St Thomas school with Stan. And had a great time with grades 4, 5 and 6.

So since I was back in the area, I thought it only fair that I go back to St Thomas to say hi to all my former students. Well, Stan’s former students really. :)

And after a few aborted attempts at organising this. I did finally call the school and get Asok to speak to them to tell them I was coming. It seems there is a new principal there and that several staff have been transferred. So not sure who will remember me, but I was hoping that at least some of the students would. :)

I showed up at the requisite time. After being almost taken to the wrong school by the auto driver. I really wish they would stop ripping me off.

I got shown to the new shiny office. Tiled floor. Glass panels in front of the two desks in the anteroom. They said CLERK and PEON on them. I kid you not. Peon. The principal had a room to herself that was almost twice the size of the previous office and about the same size as the classrooms. Though she didn’t have to share it with 40 students. And her office had clean walls. And a tiled floor. And a fan. And lights that worked. Not that I’m trying to make a point here or anything.

A new teacher who spoke English (he’d lived in England for a few years) came to collect me to take me to visit the students.

It’s a new school year 4A are now grade 5. 5A are in grade 6 and 6A are in grade 7. Fortunately the classes haven’t been mixed up so it was the same class, just a few inches taller and in a different room. And they remembered me. And Stan of course. And Guru (who was only with them for a couple of days.) And they were all asking about Stan. They were really excited. I talked to them for a bit and got some crappy video on my phone of them all waving. They sang Row, Row, Row Your Boat (the crocodile version) and wanted to play Bingo. It was great seeing that they’ve kept up their English. They were still able to understand me and to communicate with me.

So Stan, you should be very happy and very proud indeed. :)

I saw several of the staff members that I’d met when I was there last time and it was nice to chat to them again and to sit in the staffroom with them drinking liquid sugar (or tea as it’s called in these parts).

A very, very lovely day! :)

Posted in India, Teaching | No Comments »

The Cinema

Thursday, July 21st, 2011

While I was in India with Elaine we went to the cinema.

We went with Asok and Johny. And Johny brought one of his friends along too.

Asok, Elaine and I were in Trivandrum doing some shopping and we got to the cinema at the agreed time. (You might know where this next bit is going.) Johny was late. (Surprised? I thought not. :) ) I do love Johny, and he’s reliable, in an Indian kind of way. He did show up, and in time for us to be able to only miss a few ads and none of the movie. It’s just he was half an hour later than the time he’d said he’d be there. Ah well. No great loss.

Other than the fact that it left Elaine and I sitting on the steps of the cinema on our own (Asok had wandered off somewhere) for about half an hour.

This may not seem like much of a big deal. But it was. There were about 300 people milling around the front of the cinema. Two of them were foreign (or rather, looked foreign): Elaine (black) and me (white). 5 of them were women: Elaine, me, and three other women that we saw, clinging very tightly to their husbands/boyfriends.

Being stared at is something you get used to when you travel. But being stared at by about 300 Indian men is not entirely pleasant. Both Elaine and I were beginning to regret deciding to do this.

We were also a bit concerned that the cinema itself would be full. And if the five of us weren’t all sitting together, there was no way we were going in.

As it turned out, these fears were unfounded. Most of the people there were there to see the Tamil film that was on at the same time. There were only about 20 people watching X-Men First Class in English.

The movie itself was exactly what we expected (and was a much needed cultural break). The intermission half way through did make us laugh. The fact that Asok scolded the men behind us three times for talking (to each other and on their phones) was slightly funny.

The toilets that we used during the intermission were interesting. At least it explains why more India women don’t go to the cinema. Though, Johny assured me that they do go. It’s just they don’t go to English films and they only go to Malayalam films that are love stories.

The Wolverine moment is quite possibly the funniest thing that I have ever witnessed. Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) came on screen for about 2 seconds. During that time we were deafened by whistling, cheering, cat calls, clapping etc. There was one other woman in the cinema and I think she was silent. The only noise Elaine and I were making was laughter. It was 20 odd (and I do mean odd) Indian men screaming for Wolverine. Now, I’m somewhat partial to Hugh Jackman, (anyone who has seen him live on stage as Gaston in Beauty and the Beast has no real choice but to appreciate his talents), but even I draw the line at wolf whistling at a cinema screen. And I’m a girl (well, mostly).

After the cinema we all went out for dinner. It was a very lovely, civilised evening. And because Elaine and I were staying in Kovalam (rather than in the convent) we didn’t have a curfew. It’s almost like being at home. Sort of. Acutally, not at all. :)

Great fun though! :)

Posted in Culture, Friends, India | No Comments »

Living in a Convent

Thursday, July 21st, 2011

So you all know that I’d been living in a convent in India. Some of you have even commented on the fact that I’ve been rather quiet about the whole thing so far.

So, here’s my report.

First, some background to help you understand where I’m coming from. I was brought up a Catholic. I was in fact forced to go to church every Sunday till I was 21. While I was a young teenager, this was not an imposition, in fact, I went through a phase of wanting to be a nun. But in later years I did skip as many Sundays as I could. Particularly towards the end when the only time I ever felt violent was when I was inside a church. I still cringe any time I go into a church. And other religious buildings are almost as bad. This is not the place for me to talk about my experience at the Vatican. Suffice it to say it was entirely unpleasant and it took several weeks for me to recover from it.

I am not a fan of the Catholic church. At all. By any means. I think many of the people associated with it are lovely, but very, very many use the religion to justify doing some very unchristian things to their fellow human beings. I hate the wealth of an organisation that teaches charity. I hate the prejudice and discrimination (homophobia, misogynism) of an organisation that teaches tolerance. I hate the dogma. I hate the inflexibility. I hate the bloodshed that the church has instigated and condoned. I hate its stance on contraception that is partially responsible for the dual problems of over-population and the spread of HIV/AIDS. I hate the repression of women. I hate the fact that it does not allow divorce/remarriage even in cases of domestic violence. I hate the fact that it teaches that sex is a dirty, evil thing. I hate that it teaches that the duty of every good christian is to get married and produce more christians. I hate the fact that it teaches people to blame/thank someone/something else and therefore avoid personal responsibility for their own situation.

Oh dear. This has turned into a full-on rant, hasn’t it. Sorry. Anyway, back to the point.

While I was in India working with Elaine, we stayed in a convent. We were teaching in the church-run school (funded by the government but managed by the church). I stayed for three weeks.

We lived with 6 nuns. The nuns themselves were lovely. Nice people. Chatty, friendly, caring, funny. Very pleasant. Slightly quirky. But what group of 6 different people doesn’t have some quirks? All in all, they were really lovely people. And they looked after us very well.

This is not to say that I found the experience to be wholly pleasant. I didn’t.

I didn’t appreciate the fact that they let the dogs out just after dinner so we had to be back and in our rooms by about 8. If we had told them we’d be a bit late that would be ok, but the general principle meant that we couldn’t stay out in the evening unless we were sleeping somewhere else. But those were the rules so that’s what we had to do. And this isn’t specific to the convent. I’ve stayed with other families who have tried to impose curfews on me.

I didn’t like the fact that before and after every meal we all stood while the most senior nun said a prayer (I especially didn’t like it since one of the prayers had a grammatical error in it – well, I think it did, they didn’t really pray as if they meant it, it was mumbled all as one single word (as most prayers tend to be) so it was a little difficult to decipher).

I didn’t like the fact that one night when we were going to dinner (dinner was 7:45, we went at about 7:50), three of the nuns were sitting on the porch in the middle of a rosary. They kindly (?) motioned for us to sit with them while they finished. It has been a very long time since I was last in a rosary. And for very good reason. I have such a strong visceral reaction to them that my stomach ties itself in knots, my fists clench, my teeth clench, I get very, very angry. I hate them. Fortunately (?), we only had to sit through 2 sorrowful mysteries and all the prayers at the end. The next night, we stuck our head out the door to listen for praying. They were in the middle of their rosary, so we went back to our room to wait there for a few minutes before going to dinner. That worked. We never stumbled into the middle of a rosary again.

I gritted my teeth through most of this. We were staying in a convent. We couldn’t expect them to put their religion on hold just because we were there. And if I really objected, I should have stayed somewhere else. And believe me, I will in future.

I learnt several lessons during these three weeks. There is no way anyone will ever convert me to Catholicism. Living in a convent will not help me to find god (which is something they suggested on the first day). I should never stay in a religious establishment ever again. I do not have enough patience and tolerance for religions. I have been too scarred by my own experiences to be able to distance myself from them enough to view them objectively.

So while I could pretend that I wasn’t in a convent (which, to be fair, was most of the time) I had a lovely time staying with Elaine. I enjoyed much of the company of the nuns (the bits that didn’t involve stories about angels, finding god, praying, etc). The food was good. The facilities were fine. And to their credit, they didn’t force their religion on us as much as they might have done.

But every time I became consciously aware of being in a convent things got more difficult. Ah well, it was a learning experience for all of us.

Posted in Friends, India, Religion | No Comments »

Kanyakumari 2nd Visit

Thursday, July 21st, 2011

Kanyakumari is the southernmost tip of India. It’s where three seas (the Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal) meet. It is one of the few places where you can see the sun rise from the ocean and set into the ocean.

I went to Kanyakumari last time I was in India.

And decided I wanted to go again. One reason is that Johny couldn’t come last time because he was studying for his exams. And I promised I’d take him next time I came back. Plus I thought it would be a nice adventure to go on a day trip with Elaine. And introduce her to Indian buses. :)

So Elaine and I were joined by Johny and his friend John (seriously, there are other letters in the alphabet you know). John doesn’t speak much English. But he understands everything that’s going on. And he’s very funny.

We weren’t going to be able to make it to Kanyakumari for sunrise nor would we be able to stay for sunset, but that was ok. It’s a nice enough place anyway.

I stayed in Poonthura with Johny’s family the night before. Mainly so I could make sure he actually got out of bed and left the house. We were due to leave at 7:30. I woke him up just after 7. I was ready to go. He got up, eventually. Then had a wash. Then a shave. Then got dressed. I texted Elaine to tell her that we were up and moving but we might be a bit late (no surprise there). We did leave the house at about 8:30. Mind you, Johny did look gorgeous. So it seems all the early morning preening was worthwhile. ;)

John had been waiting outside for us since 7:30. Well done John for being on time! And also looking gorgeous. :)

We got the bus out to Puthiyathura where Elaine was staying. I dumped some stuff there and collected Elaine (who always looks gorgeous). The boys got the 3rd degree from one of the nuns. Note: boys, don’t loiter guiltily at the front gate of a convent, it only makes you look suspicious. :)

Johny managed to get us on the right bus and we took him further south than he’s ever been. Changed buses. Changed states. We’re now in Tamil Nadu. And about 3 hours after collecting Elaine we got to Kanyakumari.

There’s a small island with a temple and a boat goes out to it. And a wind farm along the coast in the distance. And shops selling all sorts of crap made out of sea shells. I mean really? Who wants a mirror with a frame in the shape of two kissing doves made out of sea shells? Seriously? Or a sea shell chandelier? Or those strings of sea shells that you hang from doorways just to annoy people walking through them (never really understood those, fly screens I understand, doors I understand, curtains or strings of beads/shells I don’t understand). But it’s not just your name painted on a sea shell. You can also buy monkeys carved out of coconuts (obligatory tourist tat), dancing flower pots, plastic children’s tea sets, clothes, buddha statues, elephant statues, etc.

We managed to restrain ourselves and not buy any crap whatsoever. Well done us. :)

We didn’t go to the museum that would have charged 10 rupees each for the boys and 100 rupees each for the girls. (That would be because we’re foreign rather than because we have ovaries.)

We found a hotel for lunch. Johny was a bit freaked by the fancy place I’d suggested (even though I’d told him I was buying lunch) so we settled for the place across the road. Elaine was happy enough with it. Well, till the food came out. Not that she (or any of the rest of us were unhappy). Just that that was not the best Indian meal we’ve ever had.

We went across the road to the fancy hotel since I was in need of a cold coffee and the place we were in for lunch didn’t do them. Nice.

Then off to find a boat and an island with a temple (or two).

Elaine noticed something that she mentioned to me later. It’s amazing how in India there are temples with such amazingly clean floors you could eat off them. And then there are restaurants with such amazingly dirty tables that the thought of eating off them is enough to drive anyone to fast.

People in India can clean. And sometimes they do. It’s just that sometimes they don’t.

We realised we were running a bit late so headed off to find the bus station and a bus to get us back home again. Well, the first of two buses that would get us back home.

There was a guy on the bus who was sitting across the aisle from Elaine and me and one row in front of us. Now, I don’t know if he visits a chiropractor, but he should have done after that hour on the bus. But if he does, I think Elaine and I deserve a commission. He spent the entire bus trip with his head twisted round so he could stare at us. I ignored him. Elaine stared back for a bit. Johny and John (who were in full blown bodyguard mode at this point) were staring at him too. I asked Johny if staring is considered rude in India. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe we were just being over-sensitive westerners. Nope. It’s rude in India too. But bless his little cotton socks, Johny did ask whether this happened in Kerala too (or just Tamil Nadu). He was a little crestfallen to discover that people from his own state do it to us too. In fact, people from his own village do it to us too.

But, it was only staring. The guy got off the bus at his stop. He never said a word to us. He didn’t try to convince us to go to a hotel with him (that has happened to me on buses before). He didn’t ask for our phone numbers. He didn’t propose marriage. He didn’t try to touch us. So actually, one of the better bus experiences I’ve had. :)

We had to wait for ages (and in three different places at the one bus station) to change buses. But we did eventually find the right one going the right way (thanks Johny and John). We got to Poovar by bus and then the boys found an auto (three wheeler) for us to take us back to the convent. They waited to make sure we got safely inside and then then headed off to get the bus back home.

It was a long day, about 7 hours of buses. But a very, very nice day indeed.

Big thanks to Johny and John for being such superb tour guides, translators, bus ticket buyers, water buyers (Johny nearly missed one bus because he’d gone in search of water for me), bodyguards and all round good company.

Posted in Friends, India, Sightseeing | No Comments »

Clothes Shopping

Tuesday, June 28th, 2011

Clothes shopping is not something that I am known for. It’s not something I enjoy. At all. Though I do get quite excited about developments in mosquito repellent clothing. Craghoppers do a great pair of trousers with drawstrings at the ankles that are just the best thing ever. But that’s about as far as I get with clothes shopping. And I even whinge about the Craghoppers stuff because there isn’t enough of it (i.e. any) that is black. Ah well. Given the stuff stops me getting bitten, or at least reduces substantially the number of bites I get, my whinge about colour can be fairly safely ignored.

Some of you may have been reading this for a while. And you may remember that when I started teaching in Sri Lanka in 2009 that I wore a sari. You may even remember some (or all) of the posts I wrote then about how much I dislike saris as a component of my wardrobe.

I probably also wrote about the actual process of buying the things.

Anyway, I’ve come a long way since then. In lots of areas. My dislike of saris has remained unchanged though. In fact, it has strengthened.

But, I’m in India. And at the start of a new project. Elaine will be here for 10 weeks. I’ll be around for 2 and a half. So I thought we should probably go during week one to get some suitable things to wear for teaching. Elaine didn’t seem keen on the sari idea. We both decided that churidor would be the answer. These are the shirt/trouser things that Indian women wear. The trousers are bunched at the ankle but are usually quite billowy around the legs themselves. The tops are short or long sleeved and the top comes down to mid thigh, or lower. There are slits in the side from about hip level down. This is usually worn with a scarf. The two ends flow backwards over the shoulders (where it is sometimes pinned). The front bit of the scarf hangs down covering most of the chest. Not so different from the shirt and trousers I usually wear so I thought, why not, give it a go.

So we arranged with Josy (Johnson’s sister) that we would go shopping with her on Thursday afternoon. Jo, Josy’s husband, asked why we didn’t ask him. I said it was because he was a boy. But he did offer to drive us, which was very nice of him. :)

We met up at the house on Thursday at the correct time. We got into the car. We headed off. Jo announced that Josy had a hospital appointment and so we would drop her off and Jo would take us shopping. Now, I’m usually not a big fan of gender discrimination, but the reason why we wanted Josy to come with us was because we don’t know anything about churidor and she’s a woman who wears churidor, she will know. But, if it’s Jo, then it’s Jo. He said it would be no problem, he could help. I was sceptical. He was confident. I asked if he’d ever worn churidor before. He was uncharacteristically silent. Well, we’ll see what happens.

What happened is probably best not talked about in too much detail. Suffice it to say the next hour saw me spend more time in the stationery shop than the clothes shop (I had to keep escaping next door to comfort-buy pens and pencils each time it all got too much for me).

One shop invovled Elaine and I having several heated discussions with Jo and the three male sales assistants about what we wanted/needed and what was available.

  • White is not a good idea, have you been in an Indian school? They are dirty, dusty places.
  • Sleeves that short are definitely not ok, this is for teaching.
  • Have we mentioned that we need these to wear for teaching. They are not a tourist souvenir.
  • Are there any trousers smaller than that? Do you mean to say that every Indian woman is wearing trousers that baggy? You could fit every Indian woman into one pair of trousers that big!
  • She needs sleeves that cover her shoulders.
  • Not white.
  • Not so fancy.
  • Do you have anything plainer?
  • No, that won’t fit her, that’s a 30A, she’s a 32D!
  • Showing us extra material that you can sew into this to make it fit her isn’t useful. Can we just get something in the right size please?

Elaine finally demanded that we call Josy and meet her after her appointment.

Which we did. We then went to the shop she usually goes to. This was better already. Elaine managed to get 4 tops. Since she already has some black trousers, she decided there was no need to buy trousers. And she had no intention of wearing a scarf. So she was fine.

My turn. I do not want anything fancy. Plain black please. They didn’t have any. Jo assured me that only Moslems wear plain black. Which I’m sure isn’t true. But anyway, this shop didn’t have any plain black. Ok, how about plain dark brown, dark blue, dark purple, dark red even? I knew this was getting tough. I was prepared to compromise. Nope. It seems the plainest thing that you can get is either black completely covered in sequins. Or black with a two inch peacock blue and gold trim on the hem and sleeves and covering the whole chest. Hmm, not quite my idea of plain.

By this stage, I’d pretty much decided that the whole afternoon had been far too difficult and fraught that I just wouldn’t bother. My trousers and shirts would do me just fine for the remaining week and a bit.

But it was to get worse. I said that it was enough. Jo said it was no problem, he didn’t mind going into more shops. I said yes, but I mind. If I go in to any more shops I will start punching people. I even mimed punching him in the face just to get my point across. Finally I conceded we could try one more shop only.

We tried 4. The last one had something that was reasonably plain. But by this stage there was nothing on earth I was going to be able to look at, try on, like and buy. I tried this one on. Felt like a complete freak. Yelped something about being a human being not a clothes horse. Managed to avoid use of expletives. Took it swiftly off again and walked out.

We went for fruit salad. The world became a happier place. :)

Posted in Clothing, India | 2 Comments »

The Egg

Tuesday, June 28th, 2011

I am staying in a convent. With 6 nuns. All of whom are very lovely, caring people. They are also non-vegetarians. They know that I am a vegetarian. And that I’m a vegetarian who eats eggs. They are worried about me. So once a day (usually at lunch) I get an egg. Every day. Sometimes it is whole boiled egg that appears in the breakfast curry. But usually it is an omelette that I get a lunchtime. Sometimes there’s an egg at two meals.

Now, I do eat eggs. They’re not my favourite thing. Especially when I think about what they are. But I do like eggs. And a good omelette is a nice thing (especially if it has lots of mushrooms and strong cheddar – which these ones don’t have). But a plain omelette is good. And the nuns here do make a cracking omelette (pun intended).

But I must say that I think 7 eggs a week is a little excessive. I’ve spoken to them about this and we’ll see if it stops. :)

Seeing Sr Pauline walk to the cupboard in the dining room the other day with a basket of about two dozen eggs caused Elaine and I to burst into fits of barely stifled giggles. It was hilarious! :)

The Eggs

But, it is nice to be looked after so well.

Postscript: after having two conversations with them, I am now pleased to report that the flood of eggs has abated. Though I still giggle whenever I see one. :)

Posted in Food, India | No Comments »

Food in the convent

Tuesday, June 28th, 2011

We’re eating three meals a day in the convent. And the food is good.

Breakfast is dosa (rice flour pancakes), iddly (steamed rice flour cake things), puthu (steamed rice or tapioca mixed with coconut), chappati or puri (a bit like chappati but cooked in oil) with curry. We get tea or coffee at breakfast. And it’s great. There’s a flask of hot water and some tea bags and a jar of Nescafe. There is also a flask of hot milk. Usually people here make tea with hot milk. But I’m making tea with hot water and adding a splash or two of hot milk afterwards. And that means I get tea that isn’t so milky. Which suits my taste. Elaine usually has coffee. And there is sugar on the table. So I’m getting tea with no sugar which is also a great relief. :)

Lunch is rice and curry. There is a fish/meat curry. Sometimes there is a fish curry and pieces of fried fish too. Elaine is loving the fish. I’m not eating it. But that’s ok. And there are leftovers from breakfast. Oh, and I get an egg.

Dinner is rice and curry. Usually all veg, but sometimes there is fish as well. This often includes leftovers from lunch. Sometimes dinner includes chappati too.

Breakfast is about 7:45. Lunch is about 1:15. Dinner is about 7:45. Sometimes one or two of the nuns are busy doing other things so come a bit later. Sometimes we’re a bit later and they have already started. The time keeping for meals isn’t that strict.

The food is all laid out on the serving table.

We stand behind our chairs before the meal and the most senior nun present prays.

Then we go to the serving table with our plates and serve ourselves. Which is really, really nice. It means we’re not being overfed. Which is a relief.

We then sit and eat. There is cutlery and some of the nuns eat with cutlery, some eat with their hands, sometimes it depends on the food. I eat chappati with my hands but eat everything else with knife and fork, or fork and spoon.

After we’ve finished eating, we all stand behind our chairs and the most senior nun says another prayer.

Then we wish each other a good morning / afternoon / evening / night and we go our separate ways.

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