So many wonderful things to note from the past few days. First things first- I have official joined a society. Apartment complexes here are referred to as societies and come with a gate, security guard, and community chalk board. every time I pass the colorfully scribbled notes I am reminded that I need to run upstairs and study more hindi…or gujarati…I am just not sure anymore! Some people know hindi, others only know gujarati, the local tongue of Gujarat, others use a mix of both with the occaisional English word thrown in for good measure. So not only do I have to learn the hindi word for cucumber but I should also know it in gujarati to ensure that my thirst for a fresh, lightly salted snack is quenched.
Now I have forgotten what I was going to say in the first place…
Oh yes! I moved! I am out of the ashram, see ya Gandhi-ji (the ending is a sign of respect) and in my very own flat (a term that lingers thanks to the brits). Its on the 6th floor of a very bright pink building which towers over the other homes in the area and is located near a lovely man made lake/park/walking track (the gate into the l/p/wt is marked by the following graffitie: “Maintain Decency, No Romance”). There is a lift (again, the brits) but I prefer trekking up and down the stairs as that allows me a few quick glances into other apartments. Most people leave their front door either wide open or slightly cracked so you can sneak a peek as you turn the corner. Gujarat is known for its intricately decorated furniture so the apartments showcase some fine pieces. The wood is dark and the drawings are hand drawn using earthy, metallic paints. The best piece that most people own, and I hope to acquire, is the swinging sofa (think hammock but with cushions and comfortable!). My neighbor has one and I was delighted when she invited me to plop down next to her- its really as great as you imagine it to be. Ohh my neighbors! I am so excited to tell you about them. They are retired for nearly 20 years and split their time between Ahmedabad and New Jersey where their kids have been living for some time. Since they understand American culture well enough, they forgive my faux paus and are able to understand some of my stories from the wild wild west. Yesterday, I came home from work and was greeted with some snacks before I could even figure out how to unlock the giant padlock hanging on my front door. I had a chapatti (flat pita-esq bread) with some delicious chutney composed of fresh coriander leaves, garlic, chillies, and a dash of oil. Then a neighbor from below came by and brought some south Indian treats freshly deep-fried by his wife- pakoras. Light fluffy balls of dough that leave your hands greased for days. I am pretty certain, had I been in any other house I would have been forced to eat all of the balls, but luckily my neighbors let me get away with only eating two. My neighbors introduced themselves to me as Auntie and Uncle. This is how you address elders that are close to you and it relays great respect. Since I am having a hard time keeping everyone’s names in line (not that I know many people), having 2 names that I will never slip on is a cause for celebration!
This made me hungry.
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