Sound and Song

Recently I've rediscovered my obsession with Indian music. As much as I would like to share the songs I love with certain people, it is impossible. The beauty of the lyrics: the pain, weight and poetry that they carry is something that just cannot be translated. Instead of facebook, skype and the likes, I've been up till 5:00 the past few mornings listening to songs for hours on end, singing them to myself. I am sure my family thinks I've officially lost my mind, but there is something so seductive about living in your mind. The world that these songs create is mine alone by choice and force, since I could not share, even if I tried. Perhaps a scoff that sounds like escapism could ring true, but somehow that's not all there is to it. I feel a constant and enormous gulf between people, my self and strangers alike, as I watch us interact with one another and exist side by side. In this day to day situation, language becomes the fragile thread that connects us. However, just because spoken language is an incredibly fragile facet of being human, doesn't mean it isn't necessary or that it isn't wonderful. Simply that it is an ephemeral thing. Things are said and easily dissolve, become forgotten or misunderstood. Over time, words and promises take on forms of their own, after having walked down roads they never set foot on. We remember words with a weight that creeps more out of our insecurities than the mouth of the person speaking them. When confronted with this type of alternative, to read a poem, or listen to a song and to exist in it, while letting it exist in you is invaluable. There is no need for words because the understanding is deep and complete. It is easy to become lost and engrossed in a world which you create for yourself, void of misunderstanding, because it is inevitably void of people. I am not promoting or condoning it; I am simply acknowledging that aloneness can be enchanting. On this note, here are some pics for you crazy kids:

Eats and treats on the streetzzzz (part deux)

So.. I think pretty much anyone that knows me, has at some point heard me rave about a delicious Indian desert called Jalebi that is orange in color and eaten with yogurt. If this doesn't sound familiar, then trust me, you've just forgotten, because I have mentioned them. Jalebis are generally eaten as a breakfast food and I freaking love them! There is nothing better than starting your day with fried sugar and tart yogurt...or so I thought *gasp*. Enter Imerti. It's like the Antonio Benderis of deserts. Exotic, refined, perfected by time and freaking delicious. Also, you eat it with sweet cream instead of yogurt. How could I say no to something like this? I couldn't. The man making the Imerti's was incredibly nice and told me that the paste that is fried is made out of a lentil that we in India refer to as Urad, however, in English it has the pleasure to be called "Vigna mungo". Go ahead, take a second, laugh, I did. Sounds like some stealth sex monster. Here is a picture of a guy preparing the batter

One person is in charge of making the batter out of the lentils and then this magic happens:

After speaking with the man a little, I learned that he has been making these for 50 some years, and the ones here are considered the best in all of Lucknow. He made a monster one specially for me, which when eaten fresh is honestly orgasmic.
The finished Product:

This is all for now, I'll be back later with more eats and treats for the hungry!

Inside view of Lucknow, as promised!

Today I braved the 42 degree weather and decided to go around Lucknow. It's strange how much this town has changed. It used to be a town, but it has truly developed into a city. I went to Ambedkar park, which has blossomed into an amazing architectural monument, with 62 live size elephant statues... which some, me included, argue is a bit much when a large percent of the population is still unfed and homeless...but hey.. why get political when you can just look at pretty things? yes... pretty... Here are some pictures of the magnificent Ambedkar park:




Near the park, i found an old school Ice cream cart that took me right back to being in boarding school. Growing up we used to buy orange flavored ice for 2 rs. Though it was probably made in some dude's bathtub, it was so freaking delicious. One of the few things in India that has remained the same price vise, at 5 rs. you can still enjoy an amazing Orange Bar! (though many guide books will warn against them...since you can't really vouch for the quality of the water. lol)


From Ambedkar park, i headed over to Hazratganj an area that is known for its shops and good eats. I know I sound old when I say this, and that I should welcome change... but I was honestly shocked at how much it has changed. Though most of the places I love are still there, the general topography of the area has totally changed. Wide roads and night lamps have replaced the crooked mud and rock roads. While the exterior decoration of the area has changed, I was really happy to find that the interior (i.e. the food stalls) are just as good as they used to be! Here are some examples:
This is a Dish called gol gappa.

The round things are cracked open, filled with a spiced mix of ... deliciousness... for lack of better translation and then dunked in flavored water which is made from a baby mango.
(The water can come in many flavors and you can try as many as you'd like). You usually stand on the side of the street and eat as many as you want and then pay after. I can probably eat around 20 of these bad boys!

This is one of the many different types of dishes that are encompassed under the category of chat (pronounced like "part" but with a ch sound and minus the r). Since I love me some chat, I will probably be eating and posting about different types through out the trip. More to come later!
<3 Tanz

It's Allliiiiiiive!!!!

So, I ambitiously started this blog with a vision when I moved to Paris. Like most good things, it slowly (or rather quickly fizzled out). However short the romance, I could not forget my beloved blog and have decided to give it another go. I am now in India and think this is a great opportunity to document my experiences here. While most of my time so far has been spent eating delicious food, playing video games and watching movies, I will eventually brave the 43 degree weather and try to document some of the cities I grew up in and of course the wonderful hole in the wall food spots they offer!

This went down in Paris?

Drunk night at new French friend's house. Justine, who is freaking awesome and Nathalie who is from Cameroon and speaks fluent Chinese. We had Asian culture night and made Korean, Japanese and Chinese food. Also being true techies, we downloaded our fav. songs to Karaoke and hooked up the laptop to Nathalie's flat screen. Drank 5 bottles of sake and got mousse au chocolat at 2 am! great night.

Spaces and Places

On home. How is it that you can travel the whole world, and still not find home? Isn't it just a small enclosed space where you rest and exist? Somehow, this simple endeavor is the challenge of a life time. Some people have a really clear and defined idea of what and where home is. I am always jealous of those people. For me, I keep rolling from this place to that and while some feel much more like home than others, there is NEVER any clear idea. I once shared a one bedroom apartment with a great friend for a year, and to me, my defining concept of what home is has become that apartment. There's always the tiniest drop of murky hope, that it might be possible again; and of course the overwhelming fear of the reality, that it's not.

After a long hiatus

Things have no choice but to be ok. Right? In this fast paced world, where everyone is rushing past you, without the slightest concern of knocking you right out of their way, you have no choice but to brace yourself, make your feet fall strong on the ground, to really connect, so that the shoves and pushes don’t send you flying. The question of the day, week, month and year has been, is it: I’m only twenty-five, or I’m already twenty-five!? To be honest, I don’t know the answer. I probably never will, maybe not even when I’m 55. Some of us are put together, and some are not. My pieces are jagged and I like them that way. I have been learning a lot about myself in Paris. Especially about my resilience, a quality, I didn’t know I had. A lot of bad shit has happened recently, with loosing housing and money and so forth, but there is no point in writing about it. I think a lot about random things on long metro rides. Mostly the metro brings out the melancholy in me. Anyways, I started thinking about the notion of choice and will on the metro today. The fact of it is, we always have more choices than we ever chose to admit. Anyways, I can choose to dwell on the awful scam and losing out, or I can choose to not. I choose to not, in every sense.

Paris and France in general are going a little crazy these days. What baffles me is the reaction of the youth. Compared to the sluggish apathy of the US, the youth here are incredibly invested and active. The only thing is, for most, the active investment seems to be more to jump on the band wagon than to actually enact any change. Anyways, as a result, things are getting fairly destructive. Which in short, is stupid.

That aside, things are wonderful. I have been walking around the city, going to gardens and reading books. I got a library membership a few days ago, which has been amazing. The past two days, I cooked with friends, which was also great. I recreated a dish that Victor’s mom made for us when we were in Noisy, at Fariba’s. I think it turned out great, or at least she complimented it a lot, and ate it all. Today, I cooked with some other friends and we made our French friends try mac and cheese, which they loved. But when you use 2 blocks of cheddar, one packet of cream fresh and butter, there aren’t many people who won’t like it.

I want to be writing more. I think of a lot to say and write when I am on the metro, and I need to start carrying a notebook and a pen on me to just write the thoughts when they come to me. The short story I submitted to the contest has made it to the final round… sooooo… fingers crossed; it might make it all the way to actually get a placement, which would be amazing. I don’t know why it should matter, getting recognition, but somehow it does. I spend a lot of time thinking about who exactly I’m writing for. If it’s for me, then why does it matter if I get published or not, and why does it matter if anyone reads it. And honestly, if the end goal is to have a readership, then why is it so mortifying to show what you’re writing to anyone? How does that make sense? Anyways, since most things don’t make sense, this can just get added to the list.

I saw this secret on post secret that said: “my mental illnesses have been worth my talents”. I can’t really get it out of my head.

Today I went to the Jardin des plantes and amused myself by thinking about networks of people and how in many ways our interactions are like a giant body of water. We constantly create movement and tides, high and low, with the push and pull of emotions, a waning and strengthening of bonds and feelings, as we pull closer and farther away from each other.

Nothing too deep, just a weird thought that amused me for a little bit.

After the Jardin, I went to the coolest Moroccan tea saloon and drank sweet tea with honey cake! and honestly, there were birds flying all over the place, but they were the really little kind, so I was ok. Nadda wanted to feed them, and even I was able to get behind that idea, because it was actually kind of cute. So I took some of my cake and crumbled it onto the table... bad idea. Around ten of the little birds flew over and totally freaked the shit out me. I'm surprised I didn't freak out and run screaming.

Anyways, Paris is great so far. Can’t wait to make my little hole apartment cute and have friends over for dinner and wine!