12.26.12 - Jaisalmer

12.26.12 - Jaisalmer

Christmas has come and gone, just as it does on the other side of the world.  Last Christmas was my first away from home, as my family and I went to Mazatlån to celebrate.  This Christmas was different though.  Firstly and most obviously, I am in a non-Christian country.  Secondly, I am away from all of my family and friends, and any traditions I have known related to this holiday.  However, I ended up turning it into a bizarre mixed holiday and celebrated with my new friends.  

The day before Christmas I rented a scooter and this time I drove in and out of the city, feeling more and more comfortable with every kilometer.  I drove to Bara Bagh, the village where Ricky is from, and also where Martha (my new friend from NY) is staying on a farm.  I was surprised with her trust in me as she hopped on the back of my Honda Activa and drove away.  We went into the town market where she bought small presents for the children of the farmers where she is staying.  Pens, candy, maps, a small book.  I had previously decided I would try to cook some version of an American Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve, but thought it would work better on Christmas, so I put that off.  At the hotel the presents were wrapped and I took Martha back to the village where we had to sneak the presents in so the kids wouldn't see them.  One of the things that Martha and I discussed were the implications of having this Christmas with these children.  What does this mean to them?  Do they understand this is a special occasion?  Or does it just seem like a foreigner arriving and giving gifts, and perpetuating the stereotype that that's what foreigners do, as kids from this village and others already expect something from foreigners when they arrive.  It's usually small things they ask for, pens and chocolate or cookies.  None of which I ever have.  And you will probably think I am Scrooge-like, but even if I did have these things I don't think I would hand them out.  Of course I can spare a few Rupees, and of course I wouldn't mind sharing with these beautiful and smiling young children.  It's just the social implications that I don't agree with.  So the little things that Martha gave these children were to have meaning or purpose.  A map of India so they can understand where they live.  A map of the world so they can understand what else exists.  Tangerines in their stocking as a treat, as for tradition.  A small educational book that I think was thrown by the wayside.  And candy.  No need for explanation, everyone loves candy.  The other issue I had thought about was what these gifts mean within the village.  Why was this one family picked?  Why do they get the presents?  I think, the smaller the gifts the better. But in the end, I think all of the neighboring children were jealous.  Also in the end, I am not sure if culture and tradition was shared, or again if it just seemed like Westerns being generous. 

So Christmas Eve for me entailed having a few cocktails on the rooftop restaurant at my hotel, now starting to feel like home, as I walk in and out of the kitchen without thinking to ask.  Relaxing on the long expanse of cushions and pillows.  Talking with new friends and enjoying myself.  I called my family, told them I loved and missed them, and Merry Christmas Eve of course!  Good to hear everyone's voices.  I do miss them, but I haven't hit the point of being completely homesick yet.  I expect that day to come, but not just yet.  

Christmas Day I return to the farm to open stockings and presents with the kids, and to have Christmas breakfast that the mother is preparing.  The father had made a makeshift Christmas tree, some kind of plant in a bucket with sand and green lights wrapped around.  And the small presents surround the tree and it almost actually feels like Christmas with the children anxiously waiting for what's in store.  Martha has tried to communicate to them that these aren't big gifts and not to get too excited, but that energy is wasted.  So they open the stockings, which probably just seems weird to them, as it was socks nailed on the wall with oranges in them……… as I write it, it sounds bizarre.  I took a small walk and played with the neighborhood puppies, but soon after I am told to put them down because "they eat shit" and are dirty.  In general, Indians don't like dogs.  I even saw some guy kick one really hard as he drove my on his motorcycle the other day.  I washed my hands and we ate breakfast.  The father, Jayta returned and did some interesting Photoshop work, putting my face on different Indian bodies and replicating the image in different scenes.  This is how most marriage photo books look, although I am not sure I know how to upload those from my phone.  We were going to open presents, but some of the children were missing so I went back to the city.

I ran some errands, did this and that, then went back to the hotel to start preparing the dinner.  It was hard to want to put in all this work.  Manoj, from the hotel, told me not to cook very much because the Indians wouldn't eat very much because they think our food is gross.  Manu told me my chicken might give him cancer so he wouldn't be eating it  Martha and Jayta were a few hours late so to be honest I wasn't sure if they were coming.  The cook in the kitchen was completely unwilling to understand what I was trying to make.  I appreciated the help he was trying to give me, but he just couldn't believe that I wasn't putting curry and chili powder on everything!  So turkeys don't exist in India, or at least in Jaisalmer as no one knew what one was.  So we bought a chicken.  Indian kitchens don't have ovens, but with a collaboration of brainpower we engineered a makeshift oven which consisted of a grill, with sand at the bottom, placed on a burner, with a lid, with the chicken wrapped in foil placed in the sand.  The chicken was stuffed with stuffing, I even tied the legs together like in the movies!  The cook had prepared a chili and curry mix and once I realized that his plan was to douse my chicken with it, I told him, "No, no, no, no!!!" so he understood that was not my intention.  A while later, I walked out of the kitchen for only 2 minutes to grab something and when I returned he had slathered my poor chicken.  I made him rinse it off, and tried explaining to him again that I am not making an Indian chicken, but an American chicken.  It wasn't a lack of communication, as he speaks and understand English very well.  It was the concept he couldn't understand.  So then I rubbed the chicken with olive oil then rubbed with rosemary, oregano and salt.  I had to work hard to track down all of these spices, by the way.  And to improvise, I used a soup mix to flavor the stuffing.  It sounds weird, but in the end it turned out so much better than expected!  I made mashed potatoes with green onions and garlic, and after waiting patiently for hours we sat down to eat.  The chicken was torn apart before it even made it to the table and it was devoured quickly.  I was so impressed with myself, as it was so moist and tender and made in such a weird way.  Finally eating at about 10:30pm, it was a great way to end the day!

There was one thing, though, that I found disheartening.  I feel like I have emersed myself in this Indian culture, eating their food (or at least trying it) that I don't understand, wearing their clothes, asking about their traditions and culture.  I want to know so much about them, but I found that they were far less interested in understanding me and my culture.  So maybe I should try to understand that I am the one who has made a conscious effort to be here, and they have not necessarily shown interest in learning about me.  I supposed I assumed the feeling was mutual.  Don't get me wrong, I think these people are good, but it showed me their lack of genuineness.  I could have just as easily just ordered curry at a restaurant for Christmas dinner.  I would have been happy with that.  To me, cooking for them was my way of giving something back, but I was giving something that wasn't wanted.  

I enjoyed myself, Martha had a good time, Manu said it was great, and I think Madhav at least enjoyed the chicken.  Sounds like a success to me!