The Power to Stop Time

This morning, we were awakened by a phone call from our hotel front desk informing us that our taxi to the airport had arrived. I had set an alarm for 8:00 a.m. and it had yet to go off, so I was more than slightly confused. The call startled me from a deep sleep, and since the room has massive, light-blocking wooden shutters, you can’t exactly blame me from being a little chronologically disoriented. My confusion was further complicated by the fact that when I looked at my iPhone, it read 3:10 a.m. Curious, indeed. I then looked at my wristwatch for confirmation: it read 2:45 a.m. (I had set it to local time upon arriving in India.)

“What time is it?” Bobo inquired.
“Well, my phone says 3:10 a.m. and my watch says it’s a quarter to three. It definitely feels like we slept more than three hours, though.”

Perplexed, I went to the bathroom--which is partially outdoors--because I had to pee and also to see if it was light out.

“Well, it’s definitely not three in the morning,” I confirmed upon my return.
“Call the front desk and ask what time it is!” Bobo directed, a slight hint of panic in her voice. We had a flight to catch, after all.

Upon confirming that it was, in fact, 8:45 a.m. and that our taxi was, in fact, waiting for us, we shifted into fifth, got dressed, brushed our teeth, zipped up our luggage and moved out at top speed. I still have no idea why my iPhone--which sets time based on GPS--would somehow reset itself to another time zone while I slept. My wristwatch stopping made even less sense; As soon as I stood up I realized it was working just fine. Just as I was beginning to formulate theories in my head about my X-Men-like mutant abilities to bend time, I realized that perhaps I had been just a wee bit disoriented when looking at my wrist, and perhaps I had misread it, and perhaps it did actually say 8:45 and not 2:45. Damn you, early morning dyslexia.

Of course, the ability to bend time would only really come in handy if one were very good at controlling it. If it just caused you to oversleep and miss your flight, it would be no fun at all. Nonetheless, I think it makes perfect sense to come up with a good superhero name for myself at this point in time.

Om, Shanti Shanti

Five days in Kerala is the perfect amount of time to get back into yoga, which I practiced three to five times a week in New York over the summer. I have yet to find a place in LA that I really like, so my yogic habits have lapsed a bit, but I'm always happy to see that it's just like riding a bicycle. After a day or two, I was doing headstands once again (see the photographic evidence.)

Yoga Nazi, a tiny sprite of a woman named Divya, is fond of saying things like, "Breathe deeply, relax compleeeeeeetely...Breathe deeply, relax compleeeeetely...Breathe deeply, relax compleeeeetley. Now stop breathing." It's really hard not to laugh sometimes.

I also happen to love the little ditty she sings for us at the end of class. It goes something like this:

"I relaaaaaaax my toes. I relaaaaaaax my heels. I relaaaaaax my calf muscles...ankles...thigh muscles. I relaaaaaax my buttock muscles...hip region...pelvic area. I relaaaaaax my kidneys....liver (except when she says it, it sounds like "lih-where.") I can't quite do it justice with the written word, since you can't hear my bad impression of her accent, but you get the picture.

Food, Glorious Food

For those of you who were loyal Peaches readers during the first incarnation of this blog, you have probably realized a notable absence in this version thus far: full and detailed descriptions of each and every meal eaten.

If it is not already obvious, I am a proud foodie. Certainly there are a handful of things I will probably never eat (brains come to mind, no pun intended) but there are only three things I've tried that I actually dislike the flavor of: papaya (tastes of vomit), beets (taste like dirt), and ketchup (just disgusting.) I'm proud to report that in addition to recently retrying ketchup, (yup, still hate it) during this trip I tackled both my papaya and my beet phobias. I had a piece of papaya a few days ago at breakfast, and while it remains my least favorite tropical fruit, I will admit that it is tolerable. Last week at Devi Garh, Bobo (also not a fan of the beet root) and I drank carrot-beet juice, and actually enjoyed it.

Anyway, onto much more exciting details of delightful Indian delicacies. The variety of food is, as one might expect in a country so large, incredible. Delicious lamb stews and kebabs in the north, aromatic coconut curry prawns in the beaches of the south, and tender, flavorful veggies just about everywhere. The food map of India very much resembles the geographic map of India; Food in the northwest of the country tastes more like Middle Eastern fare, whereas the spicier stews and sauces that flavor foods in the south resemble dishes I sampled in countries like Thailand and Cambodia.

In fact, it was while backpacking Southeast Asia that one of my travel companions, Fritz Ravine, bestowed upon me the epithet of "lady in the street, freak at the buffet." I. Love. Buffets. And last night's New Years' Eve gala here at the Leela Kovalam was a buffet to end all buffets.

A good buffet is like a culinary version of those choose-your-own-adventure books I used to read as a kid. If you start out with sushi, you might move onto BBQ lobster; If you begin with homemade pita chips, hummous and giant capers, you have a nice segue into veggie kebabs. You never really know exactly where the buffet will take you, and each trip up to the table is like a new chapter in an ongoing quest for satiation.

This buffet had it all: from calamari to cucumber salad, pasta to palak paneer. There were entire sections of this buffet that we did not even have the time to explore, much less the stomachs large enough to sample. Dessert stretched the entire middle section of tables, and featured triple chocolate mousse cake, pistachio napoleons, tropical fruit mini-tarts, yule logs of all colors and flavors, and a make-your-own-sundae station.

The delicious feast, coupled with entertainment that included fire-eaters, a Bollywood dance troupe, a bellydancer, and a live DJ, made for a fantastic New Year's Eve on the beach under the stars.

Happy 2010!

Happy New Year from Kerala, India, where it is already 2010! Jai Ho!