Last weekend John returned home after a week-long trip to the Maldives, and for his homecoming we arranged our first experience at an ayurvedic spa. Ayurveda is a system of traditional Indian medicine that basically involves many herbs and a lot of oil. (Obviously there is much more to it than that, but it is beyond me- I was only interested in my massage!) So, without a clue of what to expect from an ayurvedic massage, we set off to a part of town called Merhauli and a tiny spa that reminded me a lot of a Turkish hamam, set in a wooden bungalow-style house on private grounds, surrounded by a small garden. I must stress that we had no idea what to expect. John and I were led into our different and private changing rooms by our masseurs (there are no cross-gender massages). There it was immediately indicated that I was to fully undress in front of this large, older, Indian women. After a moment of initial shock and accepting the fact that she wasn't budging from her position directly in front of me, I did so, and she hastily wrapped a sheet around me and led me into the massage room. There I was instructed to sit down (all of this done with gesture since the women- there are 2 of them now- don't speak English) and I received a vigorous head massage with, what at the time seemed to be, a large amount of oil. After that I hopped up on a large wooden table. For the next hour I was doused in hot oil and man-handled by these 2 women. I must chastise anyone whose thoughts have strayed to the inappropriate due to this last sentence. I'm perfectly aware of how it sounds and must insist that any sexual implication, shock, or giggles be chased from the mind. That being said- it was glorious! From fingertips to toes, eyelids, butt, and heels, I got the royal treatment. Of course I kept laughing to myself at the thought of John experiencing the same thing but at the hands of 2 large men, but honestly, it was one of the best massages I have ever had! At the end of it all my face was coated with a mask of gunk and my eyes cooled as I lie in the hot, dark, aromatic room. Afterward, we were led back to our dressing rooms where we could shower (we could have slip-n-slided all the way home, otherwise). The whole experience is incredible, and I highly recommend it- so long as you can just get naked!
Saturday we had something equally, if not more, exciting planned- we were going on a food tour of Old Delhi. A young man named Prahbat started giving these tours in earnest less than a year ago, and in that short amount of time, the tour has become so popular that gives one 3-4 times a week with 4-8 people in each group. Old Delhi can be very difficult to manage for a non-local (including Indian folks who aren't familiar with the area), and it's very easy to become intimidated by its chaos and stimuli overload. John and I had been up to Old Delhi by ourselves twice before, feeling quite harried after all of the madness, jostling, and yelling, so it was a huge comfort to be up there with a guide who knew his way around and ushered us (not unlike nervous sheep) from one place to the next. In 4 hours we covered 7 different eateries and a good portion of the old city. At every stop Prahbat would remind us, "You don't have to finish it," (which of course is near sacrilege to my ears) because there was always more to come and falling in to a serious food-coma was a grave concern. We ate golgappas- thin fried shells filled with chickpea, potato, spices, and tamarind-mint water; samosa and dosas; every different type of parantha- doughy flat bread often filled with paneer, vegetables, spices, or garlic, covered in pumpkin chutney, mango pickle, and spicy green chilies; mutton shikh kabobs and mutton masala; tandoori chicken and spiced kofta- meat patties; jalebis- deep fried batter soaked in syrup; and an array of other norms and delicacies each with it's own set of yogurts, sauces, chutneys, and spices. For anyone who loves food as much as I do- even for those who aren't nearly as fanatical- this was bliss. It was hot and crowded and the aromas rose from every surface while throngs of people jostled for a spot in each hole-in-the-wall eatery we squeezed. Needless to say, by 10 pm we were contentedly stuffed.
Being Saturday night, we decided to check another thing off our must-do list- have a drink at the Imperial Hotel. The Imperial was built in the 1930's, designed to be one of the finest monuments in the colonial capital Delhi- a grandiose blend of Victorian and Old colonial architecture. It is simply gorgeous with several tea rooms, restaurants, and bars, all of which still feel as though they are in a distinctly different and past era. The bars are all heavy, dark wood, with "pegs" being poured for drinks into proper snifters. Of course its prices match its beauty so our plan was to indulge in one drink, pretend we were quite fancy, and then retire home. When we arrived, however, we heard loud music coming from the grounds, and as we peaked our heads in, we saw, to our utter delight, that there was a wedding reception! Once again, we put on our best we-belong-here confidence and strolled right in to the party where there was a stage and band, massive buffet (too bad we were stuffed), a couple of bars, and several hundred glamorous people in the finest Indian dress. How were we so lucky to stumble upon such an event! Clearly, based on the look of the guests, the location of the reception, and the clear indication that no expense had been spared, this was the wedding of someone beyond just well-to-do, if not well known. We talked to few people (one gentleman intimated that he was in the film business- a bollywood wedding perhaps?) and soaked up our surroundings. We stayed all night, practically closing down the place, lying on large cushioned bolsters as the bride and groom were carried out on a palanquin in a huge procession. So not only did we get our drink (or several drinks as it were) at the Imperial, but we also crashed our first wedding- check and check!
An amazing weekend of indulgence preceding this coming week, when I head to the ashram for 8 days of austerity and outer-world disconnection!
Saturday we had something equally, if not more, exciting planned- we were going on a food tour of Old Delhi. A young man named Prahbat started giving these tours in earnest less than a year ago, and in that short amount of time, the tour has become so popular that gives one 3-4 times a week with 4-8 people in each group. Old Delhi can be very difficult to manage for a non-local (including Indian folks who aren't familiar with the area), and it's very easy to become intimidated by its chaos and stimuli overload. John and I had been up to Old Delhi by ourselves twice before, feeling quite harried after all of the madness, jostling, and yelling, so it was a huge comfort to be up there with a guide who knew his way around and ushered us (not unlike nervous sheep) from one place to the next. In 4 hours we covered 7 different eateries and a good portion of the old city. At every stop Prahbat would remind us, "You don't have to finish it," (which of course is near sacrilege to my ears) because there was always more to come and falling in to a serious food-coma was a grave concern. We ate golgappas- thin fried shells filled with chickpea, potato, spices, and tamarind-mint water; samosa and dosas; every different type of parantha- doughy flat bread often filled with paneer, vegetables, spices, or garlic, covered in pumpkin chutney, mango pickle, and spicy green chilies; mutton shikh kabobs and mutton masala; tandoori chicken and spiced kofta- meat patties; jalebis- deep fried batter soaked in syrup; and an array of other norms and delicacies each with it's own set of yogurts, sauces, chutneys, and spices. For anyone who loves food as much as I do- even for those who aren't nearly as fanatical- this was bliss. It was hot and crowded and the aromas rose from every surface while throngs of people jostled for a spot in each hole-in-the-wall eatery we squeezed. Needless to say, by 10 pm we were contentedly stuffed.
Being Saturday night, we decided to check another thing off our must-do list- have a drink at the Imperial Hotel. The Imperial was built in the 1930's, designed to be one of the finest monuments in the colonial capital Delhi- a grandiose blend of Victorian and Old colonial architecture. It is simply gorgeous with several tea rooms, restaurants, and bars, all of which still feel as though they are in a distinctly different and past era. The bars are all heavy, dark wood, with "pegs" being poured for drinks into proper snifters. Of course its prices match its beauty so our plan was to indulge in one drink, pretend we were quite fancy, and then retire home. When we arrived, however, we heard loud music coming from the grounds, and as we peaked our heads in, we saw, to our utter delight, that there was a wedding reception! Once again, we put on our best we-belong-here confidence and strolled right in to the party where there was a stage and band, massive buffet (too bad we were stuffed), a couple of bars, and several hundred glamorous people in the finest Indian dress. How were we so lucky to stumble upon such an event! Clearly, based on the look of the guests, the location of the reception, and the clear indication that no expense had been spared, this was the wedding of someone beyond just well-to-do, if not well known. We talked to few people (one gentleman intimated that he was in the film business- a bollywood wedding perhaps?) and soaked up our surroundings. We stayed all night, practically closing down the place, lying on large cushioned bolsters as the bride and groom were carried out on a palanquin in a huge procession. So not only did we get our drink (or several drinks as it were) at the Imperial, but we also crashed our first wedding- check and check!
An amazing weekend of indulgence preceding this coming week, when I head to the ashram for 8 days of austerity and outer-world disconnection!
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