Holi cow! Well, not really…

The streets will run with color

Holi is my favorite of the Indian holidays. Everyone celebrating gets good and messy and good and messy — throwing “color” (powdered paint or dyed water balloons or oily goo or normal paint or mud or ash) at each other. I’ve been in India twice for the festival, held in the spring to, among other things, herald the coming of the warm season.

This year, I rocked through Pune briefly to “play Holi” (read: get messy and take photos) with my cousin. We covered a lot of ground around the city, but it was a rather sleepy, subdued day. We got a late start, and Pune is a bit tame when it comes to Holi. (A recent bombing at a high-profile tourist hangout that also killed some local college students didn’t help the mood.)

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Six months out, not looking back

Looks like he's having fun, doesn't he?

It’s been six months since I said good-bye to U.S. soil and, as much as I do miss the wonderful folks back home, I’m looking for ways to stay out here a good deal longer.

No need for a recap just now; it’s all here on the blog anyway. A photo of me cheesing it up from Holi should suffice.

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Fresh, fresh, fresh, fresh…

You are what you eat?

In India, I frequently have access to more varied and fresh fruits, because the distribution system is often door-to-door or block-by-block via fruit wallahs.

Here is some nice papaya that we had for breakfast a few weeks back. My (sadly, now ex-) roommate Rachel liked a lot of fresh fruit. I joined the fray now and then with pineapple, lemons, oranges, bananas and (while I’m diving here in Pondicherry) Granny Smith apples.

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Tibetan kitchen is a family affair

Our tour of Darjeeling was snared by a regular road closure that trapped us in a mountain traffic jam. Perfect Indian excuse for a lunch break.

We ventured to a small Tibetan restaurant where we proceeded to devour steamed vegetable momos and aloo parathas and sweet lemon tea. The whole operation was run out of a cramped kitchen (above) where mom and daughters molded momos (also below) and rolled bread.

Outside, the charismatic papa heckled customers (all of us), refused to serve them tea before lunch (me) and hollered ever-growing food orders (ours) through the door. Pops was absolutely delightful, laughed at my Hindi, and enthusiastically explained (still in Hindi) how to make his lemon tea.

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Saturday night kebab lights

Sparks fly from the charcoal grill on a busy Saturday night

I continued my research on the best chicken tikka roll in India this Saturday night. A new friend led me to Arabian Delights in Defence Colony Market, which she swears by, it was closed by the time we got there; thankfully, Colonel’s Kebabs around the corner was happy for our business.

The Colonel does a decent job (see below); we devoured our food and sipped Hoegaarden illicitly in the parking lot — a great cap to the evening —  but my Khan Market kebabwallah remains on top.

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Are you ready for some Holi?!?!

Jabalpur 2002

We’ve got less than two weeks until Holi, and I might be getting a little excited.

The religious festival, this year scheduled for March 1, involves people getting a bit out of control and painting each other with colored water and powder and paint and God knows what else. It’s symbolic of spring’s triumph over winter, good over evil, and the open future over bygones past.

More photos after the break.

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I’ve found God. Via text message.

Every day, I receive three or four text messages that are pure spam. Thankfully, I don’t pay for them.

Lately, they’ve been Valentine’s Day themed, as though I needed such tugging of the heartstrings. Other times, they’re offering me all manner of calling plans or Bollywood ring tones. Jai Ho (the popular diddy from Slumdog Millionaire) is still not old.

But frequently they are extolling the virtues of religion and offering to help me find it.

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