Monday, January 31, 2011

My Block

I have been in India for nine weeks now and spent the bulk of that time in Hyderabad.  I'm not sure why but I have yet to devote a post to everyday life in this apartment or on this block that I spend so much time in and around.  In spite of how normal most things seem at this point in my stay I will do my best to recapture the hyper-observant state of mind I was in some 60 days back.

I stay with my cousins on the 4th floor of an apartment building in an older section of the city.  The harsh conditions of 120+ degree heat in summers, torrential downpours during monsoon season and everything else that an Indian city has in excess (dust, gas fumes and at least five gazillion pigeons) leave this building looking much older than it really is.

The ground floor is a parking area that is meticulously arranged to fit every vehicle without wasting a single square foot of space.  Land in this part of the city is valuable and as they say "they ain't making any more of it."  The garage area is corralled with a 5 foot concrete wall and three gates.  Two security guards split the 24 hour duty of keeping cars in and unwanted guests out.  As far as I can tell they are both very gentle guys that don't have to means or will to say no to anyone.  Nonetheless their presence seems to successfully impede sales people and pan handlers.  They share a small living area in the center of the garage and in spite of everyone's constant discouragement they continue to rise and enthusiastically salute all residents as we enter and exit the premises.

Just outside the gates is a wild road shared by stray dogs, cars, three-wheeled autos running on lawn mower engines, old fashioned bikes, scooters, food stands, bullock carts and people. Next door to our building is a temple that utilizes loudspeakers and bells to infiltrate every inch of our apartment with its religious ceremonies that run for hours every morning and evening.  Across the street are a variety of shops that sell groceries, stationary, hot food and toiletries.

It's a welcome change to have mom and pop stores for everything within walking distance versus the monstrosities we have back home.  Everyone on the block knows Pilo and as a result of me tagging along with him a good amount of people on the block know me too.  I can walk right across the street and get fresh eggs in the morning.  The shop owner doesn't speak much English but the first time I came in by myself he pulled a big packet from under the counter and dropped it in front of me.  It was a scholarly article written by a PhD in Biology and he pointed to one of the authors and said "my son."  Very proud parent.

At the corner of our block is an intersection which among other things is home to a paan shop, an Irani cafe and a man selling bananas fresh off the branch (30 Rupees for a dozen).  A paan shop in India is actually a tiny stand and yes spelled with two a's (nothing to do with kitchenware).  Paan is an after dinner treat that people eat to freshen their breath and help with digestion.  It's composed of a betel leaf wrapped around areca nut, lime paste and what tastes like a smattering of crunchy, minty herbs.  This package is meant to sit in your mouth for about a half an hour and some folks seem to like adding tobacco to it.  These stands also peddle cigarettes.

Irani cafes are all over town and despite their notoriously shabby appearances and dirt cheap prices they make the best chai tea around.  They also sell fist-sized triangles that are breaded and deep fried with potatoes, spices and a select few vegetables stuffed into the center.  These filling snacks are called samosas and sell for about 4 or 5 rupees each (that's about a dime).  I try to avoid buying too many by keeping in mind how fast they must be lining my arteries.  Other such temptations lie down the street with the man making fresh potato chips in a big bucket of grease and a slew of confectioners churning out biscuits that must have a quarter stick of butter in every bite.

I get my hair cut at a spot on the corner also.  The price is right at $1 and as you might expect I never know what I'm going to get.  What I end up with is clearly more dependent on the barber's mood than what I attempt to ask for/mime.

The more time I spend thinking how to close this out the more things I think of so I'm just going to end it here for now.

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