The Staple Comfort Foods

This post is in no way a formal solicitation for family, friends, or strangers to send any of the items listed below. However, if you were to do so, there would certainly be no complaints.

Like any college freshman, the self-respecting expat enjoys the occasional care package stocked full of comfort items from home. Thankfully, we're fortunate enough that people have either mailed packages to us (we're pretty sure they've all arrived since Lindsay Luth went postal) or have had friends from work that have used their second piece of checked luggage as a de facto care package. While the specific contents of those packages obviously vary, we've been able to maintain a basic stock of some very specific and familiar staple items. Some of the items you can actually find here, but either they seem price prohibitive (imported food is extremely expensive, like $6 for a pack of El Paso flour tortillas) or aren't quite the exact same. In no particular order, here's a list of the staple items we try and maintain and have been able to do so with the help of family and friends.

Kraft Mac 'n Cheese

It's the wife's "I haven't felt well but am feeling better but still claim to be sick and just need something familiar" food. It can actually be found in the stores but costs about $3 - $4 per box, which just seems too much when it's consumed more frequently than the initial reason stated.

Coffee

For a coffee producing country, whole bean coffee is extraordinarily difficult to find in Gurgaon. Maybe it has something to do with the India's love affair with tea. Coffee hasn't been an issue as I imported 15 pounds of whole bean coffee from a friend's coffee shop, Coffee Please, in Madeira, Ohio. We're still working our way through the first 5 pound bag. Even though we've increased our coffee consumption at home as of late, I'm thinking it pulls us through until at least the summer of 2011.

Crystal Light

The filtered water is entirely safe to drink but for some reason it seems safer with a packet of Crystal Light, preferably a packet of Cranberry Apple Crystal Light. I thought we had a comically large supply of this, including the "to go" packs I take to work. That supply is dwindling and will be a major part of the restocking operation when we go home in October. No substitute currently exists though there are single serving packets of Gatorade to pour into water.

"Real World" Chocolate

The chocolate in India deserves its own post (and I'll run out of topics at some point and actually post it), but suffice to say that it's not nearly as sweet. It's the climate's fault. American chocolate (or as I've heard it called, chocolate from the "real world") melts at a much lower temperature than Indian chocolate. As a result, chocolate should only be brought over in carry-on baggage or shipped during winter months.

Lawry's Fajita/Taco Seasoning Packets

Though it insults some people to use seasoning packets, the reality is that you can produce fairly close to the same chicken-based Mexican food here as long as you have the seasoning packets, which unfortunately, you can't find in stores and helps explain why there are no decent Mexican restaurants here even though Indians seem to like Mexican when they eat the award winning (no joke) Mexican restaurant in town, TGI Friday's. Quick word of advice: If there are any budding restauranteurs out there in Delhi, find a way to open a slightly below average Mexican restaurant and charge whatever you want. You will make money.

Graham Crackers

A fairly basic snack that we've been unable to find here. These also aren't exactly the easiest items to transport so they are, perhaps, more of delicacy than one would traditionally think. In addition, we've yet to find anything close to resembling a substitute, so the mystique only grows.

Peanut Butter

The all American item most widely quoted as the item to bring or that people miss is actually available at grocery stores here. The price is steep, around $5 for a 16 ounce jar, but it's Skippy, which is good enough (I'm a Jif man, but beggars can't be choosers). With a substitute that readily available and a price that is expensive but not THAT expensive, it will be one of the first items cut from the list when we come back in October if baggage weight becomes an issue.

Oats and Chocolate Fiber One Bars

Not only do these bars make a delicious treat, they also contain actual chocolate chips from the "real world" so you get a little bit of that chocolate fix as well. Plus, fiber is good right? We have four large boxes from Costco (30 bars each) in the cabinet but it's safe to assume we go through 1 - 1.5 boxes per month (I eat one at work each day) so a restock is in order. The only substitutable item here are imported granola bars; not worth the price for an item that isn't as good.

Heinz Ketchup

I was quite excited when I saw Heinz ketchup in the grocery store. I was less excited when I tasted the substance inside the Heinz ketchup bottle. I was very relieved when our shipping crate arrived and I had three large bottles of Heinz from the pre-departure Costco run which should be more than enough to take me through the end of next year.

Jack Links Turkey Jerky

The mother-in-law sent a care package with some jerky and I had forgotten how delightful it was. I'm not a huge consumer or jerky at home, but any time you can have meat as a snack, you'd have to consider it a  good time. I'm fairly careful to request turkey jerky because (1) it's "healthier" and (2) I'm not sure if there are laws against importing packaged beef products.

Always Read the Small Print

Here's a screen shot from a recent inquiry on Orbitz to rent a car in Turkey for an upcoming trip in July:

I completely understand an extra fee to drop a rental car at a location different from the pick-up, especially if the drop location is remote. However, with the one-way fee quoted here, is it safe to assume Avis just abandons the car? Or, assuming they have a scaled back operation in Bodrum, do they just really, really not want to drive the 3 hours to get the car?

The New Tailor Revisited

On Sunday afternoon, the new tailor made his return house call to the apartment with his finished goods. My first impression is that he does a nice job with the clothes but doesn't pay attention to some of the details, which may not bode well for some of our future purchases. When tallying our total, he completely forgot to add two shirts that we had had made for a co-worker (note, Lindsay used this to her advantage when negotiating the final price) and she was fairly certain that he made one of the co-worker's shirts out of a different fabric. While the fabric selected was nice and this co-worker will never know (unless she's reading this post), just a reminder that we will need to be fairly explicit and write down what we've purchased going forward. It's not that he tried to substitute a cheaper fabric; it was an entirely different pattern and color. Our previous tailors had never bargained so what follows was a new experience. In general, his offer price on shirts seemed quite reasonable (INR 700 - 800) but his price on skirts and pants seemed expensive (INR 1200 - 1600 in general and up to INR 2300 for the silk....and yes, Lindsay acted insulted when he expect she pay the equivalent of $50 for a silk skirt). For the following list of clothing (not including the missing pieces), his initial offer price was INR 9900 (approximately $215):

• 2 - Women's linen skirts
• 1 - Women's silk skirt
• 1 - Women's short sleeve shirt (copy of Ann Taylor)
• 2 - Men's long-sleeved linen shirts
• 1 - Men's short-sleeve linen shirt
• 1 - Men's linen pants

Lindsay gently reminded him of the fact that he had forgotten two pieces and slowly got him to come down in price. We ended at INR 8400 (approximately $182) for our items. While I'm sure we overpaid to some extent, he made the mistake of mentioning that linen is more expensive than cotton, so we have some leverage and basis for comparison when the need for new dress shirts arises in the not too distant future. The clothing he brought seemed good enough and he did a very nice job with Lindsay's clothing, something that has been a struggle in the past (not anything to do with Lindsay specifically, the tailors we've found just seem to do a much better job with menswear). We placed another small order which he'll bring back next Sunday (hopefully this does not become a part of our weekend routine), most of which is linen. And yes, I recognize how ridiculous all this linen will be when back in Chicago. I may end up looking like Panama Jack, but there are still two very full summers to sweat through here.

Indian Wine Snob

There are typically three price points when ordering wine in a restaurant in India; in ascending order of price; (1) domestic, (2) “cheap” imported, and (3) ultra expensive imported. Since wine storage doesn’t seem to be skill yet mastered (we had dinner with a friend returning to the states last night, ordered a bottle of red, and had to wait for it to come down to room temperature; once it did, it was actually quite pleasant). Based on this storage issue, group (3) has a risk/reward proposition that makes it a no-win situation. This group of wines is typically fun for the sole purpose of seeing exactly how much they’re trying to charge, which routinely tops $100 – $200 for a wine you could probably buy at Binny’s in Chicago for no more than $15. The wine mark-up has totally new meaning in a place with a 100% duty on imported liquor from some countries. That clause “from some countries” seems to be a relatively new concept and has lead to the creation of group (2). For some reason, certain Italian and Chilean wines have come down in price; I would assume there’s been some sort of new trade agreement in palace. I’m not the type to proactively do that kind of research, so let’s just assume that as a fact. Thankfully, you can now get some bottles in restaurants in the $35 range. With this group, you’re overpaying for the quality of the wine, but the only other option is Indian domestic. This group is typically priced around $5 cheaper by the bottle (i.e., not low enough to typically incent a purchase).

Once you've made your selection in a restaurant, it’s always a good idea to have three or four backups ready (which likely comprises the entire wine menu). I’ve yet to order an imported wine where the waiter claimed it was in stock (keep in mind, I’m not ordering from group (3)). Automatically, your selection is out of stock, but there always seems to be French wine available. This French wine typically has the varietal splashed across label. I don’t know much about French wine, but I do know enough to know the varietal is typically assumed based on the region and not nearly as important as on an American label. Basically, these wines aren’t France’s finest. Typically, if there’s nothing else to your liking, you can politely ask them to go back and check to see if there might be one bottle of your original selection. Magically, they’ll either appear a few minutes later with your original selection or some other option that was likely not part of the original menu but priced at the same point. At this point, I feel like a sucker for just not going with the Indian domestic but too proud (or cheap) to switch over; it’s going to be no worse than what they’ve put in front of you. In the end, that extra $5 for the import might be the smarting pricing decision the restauranteur has made.

The Best Rs. 150 Ever Spent

For little more than three dollars, Lindsay brought home a toy that is all things; practical, the likely source of hours of entertainment, and quite probably the “John is going to be a really bad influence” gift for any of our friends at home with children between the ages of six and eleven. Please note, this “toy” is NOT two bottles of Kingfisher Premium Lager. It is, however, the Badminton Bug Zapper.

The Badminton Bug Zapper serves the exact purpose as those mosquito zappers you’re all familiar with that glow blue around your backyard barbeques (or other places of general gathering during the summer) that go, “zzzz-zzzz” every few seconds indicating the glorious demise of yet another biting pest. The Badminton Bug Zapper, however, is literally shaped like a badminton racket, which has obvious ramifications; not the least of which is turning mosquito hunting into a bona fide sport in the apartment. So as not to confuse the Badminton Bug Zapper with any other Badminton rackets you may have laying around the apartment, the manufacturers were responsible enough to put a lightning bolt design in the head, clearly indicating there is electric current involved. The manufacturers were also generous enough to put an on/off switch with a safety mechanism (i.e., you have to push a button to complete the circuit) to ensure it’s only by those whom are qualified. In addition, there’s a cool little electrical current whirring sound that gets produced when you turn the switch to “on” and press the safety, so it’s pretty obvious when the juice is flowing. The manufacturers were also ingenious enough to not require batteries; this beauty plugs right into the wall.

Now, with the first sight of mosquitoes, I grab my trusty Badminton Bug Zapper and chase them around the apartment; not only is it fun to hear the “crack-pop-pop” when you get a big one (yes, big mosquitoes make a different and grossly more gratifying sound), but it feels nice to do my share around the house.

Last night was the first night that I heard the annoying buzz of a mosquito hovering over my head. After a few minutes, I decided to break out the Badminton Bug Zapper, turn on a light, and make the little buzzer pay. Of course, Lindsay was still asleep. Lindsay also has a tendency to attract mosquitoes. Needless to say, she wasn’t too excited to be woken up from a deep sleep, being told to move quickly, and then hearing the near instant crack of yet another successful kill. Had the hunt been less successful, I’m certain she would have been even less excited. Regardless, the Badminton Bug Zapper has found a much needed place in our home. Personally, I can’t wait to turn Badminton Bug Zapping into an official athletic competition.

Feel free to pass along any suggestions.

The Birthday (aka Goa, Part II)

While the trip to Goa was timed perfectly for a much needed break from Delhi, the primary purpose was to celebrate Lindsay’s birthday. It was also the first time we’ve done a resort-style vacation without a thing planned besides informally figuring that we’d need to find time to schedule a massage and a strategy to snag the preferred chairs at the pool. Upon arrival, we took a tour of the grounds and quickly made our way to the pool, which was a beautiful southwest facing infinity pool overlooking rice paddies (someone old us it was wheat, but I had never heard of a wheat paddy, but then again, it’s not exactly Kansas, so they very well  may have been wheat paddies) with palm trees blowing in the distance. You couldn’t actually see the Arabian Sea from the hotel, but you could just kind of tell there was a massive body of water lingering just beyond the last row of trees. We spent the afternoon alternating between swimming, reading, and cocktails. Yeah, that’s right, cocktails in the afternoon. Shocking.

Apologies for the length of the post, but I’ve tried to break it up in pieces.

Ranger, Leisure Concierge

While sipping cocktails by the pool, the leisure concierge, whom we had met at check-in, found us at the pool and brought his menu of offerings. His name was Ranger, and he claimed his parents named him after the Lone Ranger. While that was probably just a story to endear himself to unsuspecting tourists that could pronounce and remember the name, he seemed like a good enough and genuine dude. Among Ranger’s more interesting offerings was something called “beach bubbly” which amounted to sparkling wine sunset beach picnic and a combination outing to the local fish market to bargain for seafood and a lesson with Chef Linda as she prepared the food you had purchased. Thankfully (as you’ll learn later) we opted to skip the beach bubbly based on the menu but figured the fish market would be a good opportunity to feel like we did something “local” rather than only lounging by the pool for three days.

India’s Pike’s Place Market

 We awoke early on Lindsay’s actual birthday to venture to the fish market with a guide and driver. We were too early for the retail market so we headed to the open-air wholesale market, and we were glad we did. It was a market in its most basic form with dozens of impromptu stalls selling everything from snails to sharks to other various sized fish pulled from the Arabian Sea. It certainly wasn’t a place heavily visited by tourists as evidenced by the fact that we were able to walk around without the constant pull of hawkers and beggars; basically, we were left alone to explore. Lindsay placed herself in charge of bargaining for the night’s main course and relegated the the evening’s starter to your’s truly. As we approached the kingfish section, it was time to bargain. We really had no idea how much fish we needed, so a “medium-sized” kingfish seemed appropriate.

Lindsay quickly got herself into Indian market bargaining mode. The salesman’s first asking price was Rs. 1200 (I’m not going to convert everything into dollars here, but let’s just assume we’re using a $1.00 = Rs. 46 rate going forward which makes this a $26 fish). At least he recognized us as Americans. Lindsay’s initial bid? Rs. 350. The salesman quickly got crazy eyes and started yelling incoherently (“incoherently” is another way of saying it was a language I didn’t understand). Apparently, he was insulted. He grabbed the fish, took it to another stall that had a scale (in hindsight, it’s a little odd he didn’t have a scale), and weighed the fish; just over two kilos. He came back and basically said, 500 rupees per kilo so 1000 rupees. Lindsay pulled the “let’s start walking away” move. Having taken two steps toward his neighbor, we heard his price quickly begin to fall.  His newest offer was Rs. 500. Lindsay had the figure 450 in her head (not sure exactly why, maybe because it was close to $10?), made one last effort to try and get that price, and felt comfortable with Rs. 500. Upon walking away from the stall, the hotel guide who had been mysteriously silent through the entire process said, “You got a very good price on that fish; it would have cost at least Rs. 700 or 800 at the market in town.”

Since the tiger prawn selection was somewhat limited at the wholesale market, the fish market in town was our next stop. The Margao marketplace resembled some of the markets we’ve seen in Thailand; however, it was still early in the morning so the crowds had not yet arrived. The first stall we found had absolutely enormous prawns that were the size of a fist. The price for those was equally outrageous at Rs. 1100 per kilo. The shopkeeper was treating it as fixed price and wouldn’t budge .We walked away. We weren’t so fortunate this time as we allowed to keep walking. At the next stall, they didn’t have prawns nearly the size but the prices were much more reasonable. The second shopkeeper also seemed intent that it was going to be a fixed price affair; based on the commotion Lindsay caused when she stepped on a stray cat as I was trying to bargains, I decided that Rs. 225 for a half kilo of prawns (about 12 based on the size I had selected) was fair for my purposes and dinner had been purchased.

The marketplace also contained fresh fruit stands with the world’s smallest bananas (probably figuratively, not literally) and a butchers’ row with stalls dedicated to various meat types, including the first beef butcher I’ve seen (Goa has very much a Portuguese influence, and with that has many more Christians). After walking around for ten minutes or so, we figured we had had enough local flavor for one day and headed back. At 8:30am we were at the hotel.

Chef Linda

The rest of the day played out quite similarly to the day before; swimming, reading, and cocktails. We did, however, find the time to squeeze in an afternoon massage.  The second bookend on the fish market experience was to learn how to cook the local catch with Chef Linda at one of the hotel’s restaurants. While the lesson basically amounted to us watching her prepare the food, it was still a fun experience to get into the kitchen and see how it was done. If nothing else, it convinced me that buying and preparing fresh shrimp isn’t really as gross as I had always suspected (i.e., I won’t feel as tied down to the bags of frozen cooked shrimp in the grocery store at home).

The prawns were prepared with loads of butter, garlic, coriander, and chopped onion and were absolutely delightfully delicious. We selected two preparations for the kingfish; simple grilled  filets and chunked cubes in a red masala. Both preparations were great, though Lindsay was partial to the grilled filet and I the masala; if for no other reason that I could enjoy with some naan.

Lindsay’s birthday concluded with one last cocktail by the pool that was interrupted by Ranger, who had learned it was Lindsay’s birthday, and one of his leisure concierge lackeys that brought a birthday cake and serenaded her with a “Happy Birthday” song (Ranger also plays acoustic guitar, his talents are multi-faceted).

The Beach

The day after Lindsay’s birthday we had very little planned so decided it was time to experience the Goan beach which was supposed to be a ten or fifteen minute walk from the hotel. I think we may have missed a turn and the walk was a little longer; however, it gave us the opportunity to walk the main streets of Majorda, the nearest town. To be perfectly honest, the beach disappointed. As soon as our feet hit the sand, every shack’s front man approached us to either have a drink, rent a chair, get a beachside massage. If a front man wasn’t approaching us, a beggar was. In short, it felt like India. Not that that’s a bad thing; it just wasn’t the intent of the trip.

As sad as it is to say, the most entertaining part of the beach was getting photographed in the ocean (it’s my newest thing, kind of like (but nearly as entertaining as) getting a photograph at the entrance to a National Park). Honestly, the only reason that was even entertaining was that Lindsay had set down her flip-flops to take the picture and an unexpected large wave nearly washed them into the sea.

The most surprising thing about the beach was the way it catered to Russian tourists. Many of the signs labeling the beach shacks were written in Cyrillic script. Upon seeing the script, I started to feel like I was at some Black Sea resort. While I’m sure there are many nice resorts on the Black Sea, again, not the intent of the trip. Upon seeing one beach massage in action; which consisted of a topless Russian woman laying facedown, with her husband basking in the sun a few feet away, the male masseuse eagerly working out any knots, and some sort of masseuse’s assistant leering at the customer. Surprisingly, Lindsay wasn’t into this and decided it was time to head back to the hotel.

Holi

The downside to traveling on a holiday weekend is that you end up missing the ability to actually celebrate. Holi is India’s festival of colors and amounts to participants having colored water fights. It stains clothing, hair, you name it. One American colleague here on a short visit took part in the celebration and came to work on Tuesday with her blonde hair looking like a clown wig. When I saw her later in the week, nothing had changed.

On the ride to the airport in Goa, there were numerous revelers on mopeds that were absolutely covered in colors. We couldn’t get any pictures because our driver was driving a bit fast and erratically, which is to say he was driving very normal. My sister actually passed along a good slideshow (the pictures are well beyond anything I could have produced):

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/35662831/ns/news-picture_stories/displaymode/1247/?beginSlide=1

Needless to say, it’s something I’d like to experience next year. When we arrived at the gate in Delhi, the Kingfisher ground crew had obviously partaken as their hair and skin was stained underneath their clean work uniforms.

The trip and break from “India” while remaining in India was exactly what we needed. By the second day of the trip Lindsay mentioned that something like this might be necessary every eight to twelve weeks. While I’m not sure I need the tropics that frequently, we’re only three short weeks from our first “John” trip of this adventure; two weeks trekking in central Nepal to Annapurna base camp. Not much time to get into hiking shape.

The Move, Part 1

The past week has primarily been one of anticipation and preparation for the move from the comfort and familiarity of the hotel into the relative unknown of the apartment.

On Wednesday, we decided it was time to start the transition from long-term business travelers to expatriates and finally ventured to our first Gurgaon Connection (a social group we joined comprised of expats) event, the weekly tea.  Even though it was located at the hotel we were staying, we had somehow found excuses to not join the first two Wednesdays we were here.  It was a primarily female (besides me, there was only one other dude, an attorney from Washington, D.C.), yet diverse group of people of varied ages and countries of origin.

Move day itself was sadly uneventful.  We both kept waiting for something crazy or unexpected to happen, and nothing really did.  All the finishing touches had been applied and the RO UV water filtration system had actually been installed.  “RO” stands for reverse osmosis and “UV” is like the rays from the sun.  Apparently, it’s the thing that keeps parasites, bacteria, and other unmentionables out of our consumable water and keeps us (hopefully) out of the hospital. 

Our apartment is considered “serviced”.  For those unaware of what that means (as I was until about 23 hours ago), it means that it’s furnished, holds an inventory of daily use items like small kitchen appliances and dishes, gets cleaned six days a week by a nice young gent named Sanjay, includes daily towel service, a daily newspaper (I requested my favorite, the “Hindustan Times”), and four or five different levels of phone numbers to utilize in the event we have issues.  In addition, it sounded like Sanjay will do some level of laundry and also deliver items needing pressing to some person in the basement that will apparently iron for Rs. 2 an item.  A little less than a nickel.

Based on a number of factors on a varying scale of importance, including both the size of the water heaters in the bathrooms and the amount of closet space in the master, we split up on our belongings to give one another space.  The net result is that it feels a little like we’re roommates at this point in time, but I’m sure we’ll grow accustomed to the setup.  Surprisingly, I “won” the right to the master closet and bathroom, though it must be recognized that this was “given” to me and not a simple assumption on my part.  Apparently the guest bathroom has better light.  One other quick tidbit about the bathrooms and the availability of hot water is that we have to switch the geezer 30 – 45 minutes before we want hot water.  Lindsay is looking forward to this as an official excuse to hit the snooze button.

The rest of Saturday was spent touring our nearest shopping haunts (all places that will surely be referred to throughout the next two years), including Galleria Market and Super Mart-I.  In addition, there is a small grocery store located within our apartment complex that has a surprising selection of produce and basic staple items.  Galleria was our first stop, where we visited at my newest favorite store, ElectriCity.  It’s like a cross between Best Buy and Home Depot with about 0.05% the square footage (that might be generous).  There we purchased an India coffee maker, which has already performed admirably.  From Galleria, we made the short drive to Super Mart-I where Lindsay attempted to get back in the bargaining mode.  Not successful.  Let’s just say she’s going to need a little work before she hits the pashmina stalls.  On the other hand, I successfully purchased a copy of George Clooney’s “Up in the Air” for Rs. 100 (approximately $2.17).  I’m pretty sure it’s not a bootleg because there’s a manufacturer’s suggested price of Rs. 199.  What kind of self respecting bootlegger would print a price on the package?  Totally legit.  Funny side story, the kid working the stall was having trouble understanding my English, so the kind customer next to me (who was purchasing porn that the kid pulled out from behind the table) helped broker the deal.

From the video stall we made our way to Needs grocery store, which comes highly recommended by all expats.  Within about four minutes, you just come to accept the fact that all packaging is dirty and that as long as it appears sealed, it’s worth rolling the dice and making the purchase.   Fifty bucks in groceries, ten bucks in produce, and two bottles of wine later, we made our way back home.

Part two of the move takes place tomorrow (Monday) when our air shipment arrives.  Slowly but surely we’re acclimating to the new lifestyle.  The most striking difference between “hotel life” and “serviced-apartment life” in the winter is undoubtedly the temperature.  Simply put; it’s cold.  As I close this entry, Lindsay is sitting next to me, reading a travel magazine, fully clothed, yet still wearing her robe – perhaps this IS just like home.