Fortunately, It was Paradise*

PARADISE, possibly the best restaurant in Hyderabad/Secunderabad.

Of course, if you name your restaurant Paradise, it had better darn well be amazing. Although I didn't cry at the taste of the mutton or chicken biryani, it did make me a little woozy. From Matt's testimonies of the miracles of this food and its effects on his tear ducts, we all knew we were in for a treat. Biryani is the of Hyderabadi food--rice cooked in spices, either veg, chicken or mutton. Paradise, as we experienced on Wednesday, has some of the best biryani in the city.

We ordered for four people, taking advantage of the spread of Indian cuisine:

One mutton biryani
One chicken biryani
One Saag paneer (my favorite!)
One Malai Kufta (Matt and Rachel's favorite!)
One veg curry...eggplant maybe?
One mutton curry...
About 15 roti/kulcha/naan--that is, bread items

Our waiters kept repeating our orders in disbelief, although they didn't go so far as to ask us, "Are you SURE you can eat this much?"
Gluttonous Americans.

Oh, by the way, we also ordered dessert:
2 Gulab Jamun (pastry balls swimming in honey water)
1 Ice cream with hot peach/apricot preserves

The aftermath...I was going to snap a picture before we desecrated the food, but in awe of it all I forgot.

Matt, without whom we never could have come close to finishing all of those curries. We thus dubbed him our Guru of Gluttony.

Rachel and Harrison in the aftermath:

Happiness and Pain, oh so sweet.

*Nerdish reference to a book by Yahya Yakhlif called Unfortunately, It was Paradise.

To the Soundtrack of William F. Gibbs

On occasion, I go running.

Ordinarily, I try to go early in the morning to avoid the peak staring time of the day, because as all of us American joggers have discovered, Indians don't share the same fetish for Aesics running shoes and the aerobics that go with them. Yet I go anyway, when I need to think, explore the campus, or feel particularly rebellious.

Here's a few of the sights to be seen. . .


One of my favorite paths on campus. . .

A rock that should not exist.

Hyderabad is known for its boulders, although most of them get blown up to make buildings. As a result of all of the excavation though, I am now unnaturally accustomed to hearing large explosions at close distances. If an actual bomb were to go off, I'm not sure I'd notice...

Dogs love our campus--sleeping in the middle of the roads, running across the roads in front of my cycle and causing me to crash into motorbikes parked alongside the path, and breaking into our Ladies Hostel hallway to eat our garbage and leave smelly presents.

(Former B1S kids--wouldn't Darcy appreciate THAT?!)

This little guy, however, simply got a kick out of following me all the way home from my run out behind Gachibowli stadium. I think he thought we were running buddies, because he would glance back to make sure that he wasn't leaving me in the dust, and then run along side me for a couple hundred yards or so. He then found me on campus the next day and followed me all the way home to the hostel, much to the chagrin of the other girls who only saw another mischievous thief to steal their garbage...

A crab that should not exist.
I had to stop my puppy friend from eating him, or he would no longer exist.

If Only there were Snakes...

I can only justify spending 48 hours in travel for 36 hours of beach time with two things: One, the end of midterms deserve a victory lap around the country and Two, its GOA. The Portuguese-and-Marathi-speaking, church-filled, beach-and-mountain lined party state of India.

[the Church of Our Lady of the Immaculate Assumption in Panaji]

A quick overview: we slept, we sat, we bounced, we swam, we lay around, we burned, we bought, we bounced, we sat and we slept again. The End. Twelve very dirty people return to Hyderabad.

Ok, so maybe you want more information than that?

Part One: We slept.

If I haven’t explained previously, the trains we take to get around the country generally run overnight, and a bunk on the sleeper class lies within perfect bounds of a student’s budget. Hard blue mattresses stacked three high in compartments of six facing a stack of two, complete with fans and an advisory to bring a sheet. [The BYOS policy only applies in the non-AC classes, whereas if you go for air-conditioning they give you a complementary sheet and blanket. To protect against the arctic chill of the AC, of course.] My experience on the train to and from Chennai two weeks ago was less than encouraging, as the “we slept” part was then a relative term--disturbed by jolts of the train brakes and a 1-year-old with an earache. To and from Hubli, however, the train was a smooth beautiful picnic of a time, with available bathrooms and a Chai Man to wake you up in the morning. Although I didn't realize that they wouldn't provide a sheet...

Part Two: We sat, and we Bounced.

Translation: Bus from Hubli to Panaji, the capitol of Goa, next a bus to Mapusa, and then a "rickshaw" (story upon request) to Anjuna, on the beach. Hubli, just to clarify, is in Karnataka, to the east of the state of Goa, and the farthest we could get this weekend by train. Those of you who have been to Disneyland since the installlation of the Indian Jones Ride: close your eyes. Picture the jeep rollercoaster car, now take out the seat belts, extend it by 20 seats and add a roof and dirty windows. Now take the 39 second ride and the 3.9 hour line you stood in to get on it, and reverse it. Now multiply by two. Voila! One bus ride to Goa from Hubli. Oh, I forgot. Take out the snakes first. To those of you unaccostumed to the Indian Jones ride, I give you potholes of unknown depth filled with bright red mud and a measuring tape to find out how high we bounced out of our seats. Add one backpack on the lap and a very full bladder from the mango juice that was breakfast and…one bus ride from Goa to Hubli. Still no snakes.

Lest you think this was miserable, let me clarify. Despite the lack of proof I have due to the insane amount of bouncing and my poor camera, the views as these buses wind around the eastern Goan mountains are amazing. Lush green hills and waterfalls that go down for a mile and thatched huts and lots of goats. Maybe we are all so used to India by now that things like potholes and hard seats and going 25 kph for seven and a half hours is actually funny. But it was, regardless of the reason, just that ridiculous and just that much like Indian Jones, without the skeletons. Would have been even better with snakes.

Part Three: We swam, we lay around, we burned.

This would be in Anjuna, to which we arrived during its off-season. Not quite the picture in the Lonely Planet, but it was a beach, and we did beachy things. Pictures will explain here, personal emails will explain further.

The water, oh-so-warm to this Northern California skin and oh-so-welcoming at all hours of the day.

Um, does Lonely Planet lie? No, they just don't come to Goa during the off [Monsoon] season.

Abandoned beach-side church in Anjuna.

Oh, quick note. We all burned, except for Batia, who mysteriously did not put on any sunscreen and remained tan/burn-line free the whole day. She was almost sad about it. We also burned dry wood, [and then very wet wood] in a bonfire that [almost] got put out by monsoon rain.

Part Four: We bought.

The marketplace in Anjuna, mostly abandoned during the off-season.

As in, we bargained, and inevitably got ripped off still, at least some of us did. I made the mistake of promising two aspiring young business women on the beach that I would come “see” their “shop” (that is, a blanket with jewelery behind their house) later, and only got away with many less rupees in my pocket and a lesson in why not to make promises to ambitious girls in saris on the beaches of Goa. These girls who haunt the beaches to pull you into their “shops” repeat over and over, “Come look! Just come look, looking is free ma’am, if you not like, you don’t buy, looking is free!” Looking, my friend, is not free. However, somehow being outside Hyderabad made it okay to let myself get slightly ripped off, being that I was actually a tourist this time, not a student trying awkwardly to pretend she is an Indian.

Part Five: We sat, we bounced, we slept—again.

This time we got on the bus prepared for it, in sand we would never able to wash off in the shower, as well as tar from the beach on our sandals and dirt from the previous bus ride still ground into our skin. But also sporting super bubbly new Goan pants. Also fully not caring how incredibly dirty we were, or how dirty the sketchy restaurant we ate in before the train ride was (story also upon demand). Or not caring that our bus had to change it's tire halfway there for unknown reasons...

Long story short: I think we'll be back.

CIEE + Temples = ?

As I mentioned in my last post, the CIEE group took off last weekend towards Chennai and the surrounding areas for what we call a "field trip." Aptly so, we all realized that in the eyes of CIEE, we are all 13-year-olds, herded to and fro and given packing lists that remind us to bring bug repellant and sunscreen. Of course, they all mean terribly well, and in the usual fashion, provide much more than we ever need--ritzy hotel with air-conditioning and pool, air-conditioned train cars, and, of course, TEMPLES.

Lots, and lots of temples. With a guide whose general philosophy is this: 20 minute crash course in Indian architecture and art history in the oppressive Tamil heat, plus "See this temple? Ok, you have ten minutes to walk around and take pictures." Then back onto our air-conditioned bus to go to another spot. Highly educational, but also highly exhausting. I think I spent the whole time wishing I could take a nap on the beach, while on a surface intellectual level being highly fascinated by the twenty thousand temples we were seeing. The high point for me, I think, was a visit to what they call a math or school, where we actually got to sit down and talk to the resident swami for about a half an hour. All a little intimidating, but it was fascinating to hear his questions and answers about the U.S., and our views of India. An honor for sure, and a little window into serious Hindu studies from an Indian perspective.

In the ten minutes we were given at each site, I did have a chance to get some pictures, though, and despite the heat and exhaustion, they never failed to be beautiful.

According to our guide, this temple is constructed in the form of an elephant, thus the rounding of the rear of the temple to indicate the rump...ironically, they also felt the need to emphasize with the addition of an elephant sculpture.

Behold, an art-historian's pun.

And, just for good measure, the front of the pun.

Rachel and her best "I'm an Asian tourist!" face.


Temple on the beach, which really had the effect of a permanent sand-castle...

...and the actual beach, which our tour guide insisted was "another trip" and outside our schedule. Caused more than a little irritation on our part, as we couldn't see why a ten minute stroll would really mess with the itinerary that much. So close, yet so far...



Lindsay looking thoughtful in her ancient temple...

Next on the itinerary: GOA. Including Molly's birthday celebration, beautiful beaches, and maybe a Portuguese-Indian cathedral or two...? That is, if you can drag me off of the beach.