When we lived in Japan we lived in a place called Ishikawa-ken. If you look at a map there is a peninsula on the Korea side that sticks out of the main island of Japan. We lived more than half-way up that peninsula. It took us a little over an hour to drive to the big city. If we were picking folks up as we made our way down the peninsula, which was usually the case, it took us about 2 hours. We didn't travel into Kanazawa City very often, but when we did I always had dreams of the treats that lay in store for me.
When I lived in America, I didn't realize how spoiled we are. Drive through any town and you will see the diversity of food which represents our population. Come to a big city and shop at a multitude of ethnic grocery stores. Going to Japan and eating Japanese food day in and day out was a shocker for me. So heading into Kanazawa City always included a meal at the 1 Indian restaurant. By this time in our relationship, I no longer thought Indian food was "mushy, like baby food". Yes, I said that once upon a time. By this time, I had made 2 trips to India and I had a ring on my finger proving I was willing to proceed with this Indian-American man for real. The first time we walked into the restaurant the Indian cooks went nuts when they saw another Indian. They came running out of the kitchen yelling in Hindi in what almost looked either like a Bollywood dance scene or a street fight. It all ended very quietly when Marvel couldn't speak Hindi and they couldn't speak Kannada, but every time after that when we came Marvel and the cooks exchanged greetings and big smiles.
The food was of course North Indian and they had a tandoor to make naans and all kinds of breads. But the other interesting part was they had to cater the Indian dishes to the Japanese palette, which is almost zero spice. This must have tortured the cooks and I am sure they were just waiting for the doors to close so they could throw some heat into the pan and cook Indian food how it was meant to be prepared. But to me, it didn't matter. The curries were 800 yen and even though I had tried I could not manage to eat more than one at a time. That meant I had to make a choice until the next time we came to the big city.
Mysore has become a big hub for yoga students. There are many ashrams and folks come from all over the world to study here. With the major increase of white folks in Mysore I have noticed one big difference- the auto rickshaw meters. They are all broken and I must haggle my fare. No matter what anyone says, I blame the yoga students. They were too generous with their tips, they threw their rupees around too freely, and now I am suffering. Oh I am not saying, 10 years ago, when I came on holiday, spending American dollars and Japanese yen that I was not generous with my tips, but there was only one of me so I was like a lucky penny you find on the street. Now those American dollars, Euros and Yen are everywhere and finding one is more like finding a piece of candy in a piñata.
But the let's not all be down on the yoga students after all I am one of them now with my new found love of yoga. And they have done some good for Mysore. Without them, we wouldn't have Namaste the Gourmet Shop on Kalidasa. I finally went in the other day and not since Japan when we were cruising into Kanazawa City had my heart done little flip-flops like that- tortilla chips, Pepperidge Farm cookies, Skittles, rice paper wrappers, Japanese snacks, and Walker's Shortbread. They were of course all pricey. Skittles are 85 rupees, that is over $2 for a small bag. So I just picked the bag up and held it gently in my hand. But I did splurge and buy tortilla chips.
Oh, it is the little treats like this that make me smile.
When I lived in America, I didn't realize how spoiled we are. Drive through any town and you will see the diversity of food which represents our population. Come to a big city and shop at a multitude of ethnic grocery stores. Going to Japan and eating Japanese food day in and day out was a shocker for me. So heading into Kanazawa City always included a meal at the 1 Indian restaurant. By this time in our relationship, I no longer thought Indian food was "mushy, like baby food". Yes, I said that once upon a time. By this time, I had made 2 trips to India and I had a ring on my finger proving I was willing to proceed with this Indian-American man for real. The first time we walked into the restaurant the Indian cooks went nuts when they saw another Indian. They came running out of the kitchen yelling in Hindi in what almost looked either like a Bollywood dance scene or a street fight. It all ended very quietly when Marvel couldn't speak Hindi and they couldn't speak Kannada, but every time after that when we came Marvel and the cooks exchanged greetings and big smiles.
The food was of course North Indian and they had a tandoor to make naans and all kinds of breads. But the other interesting part was they had to cater the Indian dishes to the Japanese palette, which is almost zero spice. This must have tortured the cooks and I am sure they were just waiting for the doors to close so they could throw some heat into the pan and cook Indian food how it was meant to be prepared. But to me, it didn't matter. The curries were 800 yen and even though I had tried I could not manage to eat more than one at a time. That meant I had to make a choice until the next time we came to the big city.
Mysore has become a big hub for yoga students. There are many ashrams and folks come from all over the world to study here. With the major increase of white folks in Mysore I have noticed one big difference- the auto rickshaw meters. They are all broken and I must haggle my fare. No matter what anyone says, I blame the yoga students. They were too generous with their tips, they threw their rupees around too freely, and now I am suffering. Oh I am not saying, 10 years ago, when I came on holiday, spending American dollars and Japanese yen that I was not generous with my tips, but there was only one of me so I was like a lucky penny you find on the street. Now those American dollars, Euros and Yen are everywhere and finding one is more like finding a piece of candy in a piñata.
But the let's not all be down on the yoga students after all I am one of them now with my new found love of yoga. And they have done some good for Mysore. Without them, we wouldn't have Namaste the Gourmet Shop on Kalidasa. I finally went in the other day and not since Japan when we were cruising into Kanazawa City had my heart done little flip-flops like that- tortilla chips, Pepperidge Farm cookies, Skittles, rice paper wrappers, Japanese snacks, and Walker's Shortbread. They were of course all pricey. Skittles are 85 rupees, that is over $2 for a small bag. So I just picked the bag up and held it gently in my hand. But I did splurge and buy tortilla chips.
Oh, it is the little treats like this that make me smile.
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