January 18, 2022 | Leave a comment i have culture shock when i read my posts even though i lived those events—me, Day 1,378, WhatsApp chat Monthly Moods: From Lost To Ground Yet another month of working on myself and not letting life pass me by becomes two. I present a double monthly update. Cheers to new discoveries in already twice-lived places, not knowing it was possible to feel this good, living 7.7% of my life in India, and 2022. new content… It’s A Mudde Mood one day He did not leave afterkissingme —rabi’a between november 11th and december 11th, Much has happened. Much is happening and I don’t have the time to write out the details because I am hopelessly addicted to working in my latest kitchens. Working refers to personal recreational projects using plants and plates. I surrender to the fact that my creativity fluctuates between different worlds depending on the context of my surroundings. I moved into a fully equipped apartment that I still cannot believe I get to wake up in every day. The upgrade miraculously did not increase my budget. It is the nicest place I have ever rented for myself. With two beds and two bathrooms, the space comes with the sensation of home. My digestive tract continued to suffer and I decided to fast more, seek local natural healers, and detach from food. But not before overdosing on crunchy spirulina. And exploring the art of vegan borscht, and perfecting my pumpkin pea khichdi and hemp beauty bars. This setback in my health, combined with tension on how to continue my travels, made me attribute the psychosomatic cause of my chronic diarrhea to feeling ~ lost ~ The Ganges turned herself into hues of psychedelic sea greens. I had slow beach days… …and beach days that turned into hunting down flower-selling boys who stole the phone of a friend and intercepting them along the Ganges three bridges later, moments after the thieves presented the loot to the mother, who denied the presence of any phone even though it was in her purse, and who handed it over when they realized we were serious about involving the police. An Indian afternoon for the books that merits its own victory selfie. I’m telling you, those boys are their own flower boy mafia. Now we know the good, the bad, and the ugly. And that the thief was actually a girl with a shaved head. They are all ten years old. One of the boys who helped us locate the thief was the same and only boy I’d ever bought flower offerings (to Mother Ganges) from, one week earlier. Home boy goes by Kuldeep. I had beach nights under the full moon or fire-roasting potatoes of an impossibly mini size. From auto-rickshaw rides to walking home from the ayurvedic clinic, I munched on an excessive quantity of hot peanuts. I took a long walk with my babaji buddy, ascending high over the tourist hum bum, and saw glacial peaks in the distance that probably included Kedarnath. To encourage myself to prioritize friendship and socialize more, I started hosting plant-based dinners. menu i 02.12.21 tofu scramblebuddha greens—broccoli, peas, spinach, mushies, onion, chopped herbscrispy cumin garlic sweet and regular potatoesblack tahini israeli tahina saucescallion cashew cream cheeseraw chocolate peanut butter cupsnickers dates menu ii 08.12.21 v creamy pumpkin coconut soupv tofu spinach ricottaisraeli tahina dipv tahini date slice Things began with me cooking and prepping for 12 hours with breaks in between + no one bringing additional food beyond six momos. Four full-grown men and two ladies pecked at our fragile portions like pigeons. Then I got into tofu ricotta and relishing the produce selection of the poppin’ market in the city. A friend introduced me to The Rajasthani Restaurant (more on this below) and sangri ki sabji, a specialty of the state of Rajasthan. By coincidence I had on a (vintage/thrifted what’s actually the diff) Rajasthani kurti top. That same meal I was reunited with daal baati no churma, nearly two years after I lost my daal baati churma virginity in Pushkar. The month ends with me feeling more loved than ever. With me not hurrying into romance or careless passion, and instead prioritizing friendship and quality companionship. Not being in a rush bears its fruits. the heart only reflects the sky when it is giving and compassionate—meister eckhart from december 11th till january 11th… I started seeing a doctor in the city who treated my digestive symptoms with modern medicine. The after-appointment ritual became visiting the Rajasthani Mishtan Bhandar. This cult favorite eatery consistently ensures a wipe-out of greasy North Indian calories. me: I’ve had diarrhea for three months and infection-induced IBS! also me: —iMessage group chat pictured: mushroom masala, garlic naan, Ras Madhuri; none are Rajasthani, 11/10 would get again The sensation of an upcoming migration south crept up on me. This pressured me to plow through more recipes than ever in the brittle December cold. In the evenings using the gas stove to cook food was a glimmer of warmth for my habitat. Swims went on halt. I complete TWO FULL YEARS in the Greatest Country on Earth. Of course I had in mind to publish another 108 Sure Signs You’re Head Over Heels For India in honor of another year. Easy enough if you sit on it every now and then but let’s be honest life kept rolling through and the new list rests at about 60 items. My India-nniversary is celebrated alone with my first ever rotis from scratch. Talk about overdue. My place was selected for Christmas. We celebrated on the 24th as done in Brazil and Europe. I served tofu green curry with pumpkin, coconut lime rice, and a garlic peanut sauce. The first guest to show up brought pizza, making it my first Pizza Friday in ages. At midnight we exchanged gifts and I end up with a small zip-up bag and a red yoga strap. Friends booked me a train ticket and nice apartment in Goa. My frozen fingertips and numb toes under two pairs of socks had no excuse not to go. Days 1420-1421 At 4am we grovel out of bed and catch our train before sunrise with an abominable amount of luggage. Most of it was not mine because I finally found the guts to ship a parcel to China of miscellaneous belongings, each loaded with memories, and of course some goodies for Mom. My back and shoulders thank me for that move. Downsizing my yoga mat and cutting out thick attire gave me a boost of mental calm. Not pictured- 8 more pieces of luggage and 4 pillows. At 7am on the train we eat khichdi prepared by the family of one of our guesthouses. The savory rice porridge is infused with healing powers. It’s still warm because they got up in the night to ensure maximum freshness for us. The previous night I went to bed way late because packing and cleaning were intermittently interrupted by for goodbye hugs or the send me off with small offerings. Hardly believing my life to have taken this turn, this was a big step in the progress I’ve made in opening up to others. 37 hours of India fly by, lolling me in and out of my dreams from my window seat-bed. It’s been two years since I’ve allowed myself the luxury of a ticket in class 2AC. Two bunks rather than stacks of three allows. Air-conditioning keeps out mosquitoes that my blood vessels remember well from the abuse of many a lonesome night in class SL. One of the best things I see is simple neighborhoods enclosed in barriers of train tracks flipped vertical. The cement logs have been literally turned into pillars, smushed together until the sensation of a protective wall is achieved. Naturally the food is over the top. Hemp beauty bars by me, coconut chutney and spiced potatoes and corn vada fritters by a loving Keralan mother shared with her husband and two boys, coconut water and homemade fudgy chocolate gifted from Rishi friends, figs and berries that were pushed through the aisles by wiry arms. Goa. My least favorite place in India. Suffocating Americanism making it difficult to feel India at all. Alcoholism visible on every street in a way that disturbs my spiritual equanimity. Fruit and petrol purchases dripping with greed. Goan police dance with you on the price of the ‘fine’ for not wearing a helmet. Bribe-money capoeira. Bills going straight to their bottomless pockets. 2,000 rupees starting, brought down to 500. Which is exactly what happened to us one happy Friday morning. Before our dental appointments, we go to G-Shot to sip microlot brews and sink our pre-polished teeth into sourdough toasties oozing with camembert, gouda, and fromage de chèvre while soaking in thick compilations of Osho. The police nab us minutes before G-shot. Alpha Popo’s sidekick was chiding me to show my location and reveal where we were going. As if I were a criminal with a confession to make. I say my phone screen is for my eyes only and that we were going to a cafe. He doesn’t let up. I tell him I’m not asking for his screen and he aggressively pulls out his phone and I turn my cheek with a “mujhe aleka chhor do.” My “nononono” to Alpha Popo’s proposal for a 500-rupee settlement gets the key snatched out of our motorbike before we can bat an eyelid halfway. A menacing hand plants itself on front of the bike. There is no escaping. Fucking con artists. The scene boils my blood and I am taken back to a parallel childhood event. Fraud police in a Prague subway station ganging up on my father in front of us, his wife and teenage daughters, for “stepping over a painted line without already having a ticket.” That event ruined our day and spoiled the city. This time the police are legitimate. Six, not 100, dollars were weaseled out of our wallets. We don’t let it shit all over our day. The vibes of a renovated G-Shot are on fleek. Our food is too trendy. The citrus notes in the last espresso we half-half, pulled from a Kenyan Ruhiru bean variety, cultivated in the hills of Chikmagalur, are too dainty to miss out for abusive policemen. I’ve grown to love, love in the deepest sense, my least favorite place in India. The quality of life here in Arambol is the highest there is. I share a house with friends located in a grove of palms, away from the tourism hysteria. A brilliant red sun salutes me its every rise and set. Brunching on capps and croissants or avo toast or strawberry smoothie bowls, chugging back tender coconuts, using buckwheat and ragi flours on Pancake Sundays have become a thing. The Arambol community values creativity and expression. Friends work on their Youtube channels, self-publish books, or put on a mean show as they rap in three different languages. It took three New Year’s Eves in India to have that cliche New Year’s in Goa. Ecstatic dance DJs from around the world, small serves of Pu’er from Russians, homemade cacao bark from a Colombian, and unexpected psy trance beats kept me going until five in the morning. The journeys presented within the first ten days of 2022 have taken me far and changed me in the direction of expansion. It feels like a precious blur with bits of it jotted down in both black and digital ink. My body and mind feel so much better. The groundingso clearly envisionedcentered at my gutmanifests. obsessions: hemp heartstoasted cacao beansvirgin coconut oilmy pumpkin pea khichdiorganic mini market nut and seed buttersblack tahinikashmiri walnutsbinging kimia datesaurospirul crunchy spirulinaganges beach sunsetsvegan borscht adaptationselsa’s wholesome life youtube channeldrinking cacaoganges beach afternoonssoy capps @ moktan cafecrispy cumin potatoessilky scrambled eggsbulletproof coffeeavocadosproject possiblebeetroot smoothies pen ink on papermalai coconutsfried plantainsavo toastcashew butter mylk masala chaizen storiesrumispirulina smoothiesbasil seedssmall bananasstrawberriesraw vegan tiramisuhosting potlucksawarenessfriendshipmicrolot brewsg-shot sourdough toastiesragi flourleafbirdssunrise at homespanish dict palabra del díaorenda india cork yogi travel mat Birds of the Months December: Ruddy Shelduck Source: eBird. Found these goose-sized paddlers stealing fish food dropped by tourists from the Laxman Jhula bridge into the Ganges in Rishikesh. Quiet, peaceful, pleasant color combo, always hungry. 131st species identified in India. January: Jerdon’s Leafbird Source: Wikipedia. A male feeds every morning on the pink fuzzy flowers in my backyard and chases away the other leafbird species with a verbal squabble. Lime green feathers are not the easiest to see, but he announces his presence. Punctual breakfaster at 7:30am. 132nd Indian bird species in two years on the subcontinent. current books: Count Your Blessings, Dr. John F. Demartini The Man Who Loved Seagulls, Osho and ofc some final food fomo before i sign off(: Previous Monthly Mood: ‘Tis The Season Explore my full archive of India and Monthly Moods. Learn more about this round-the-world solo trip.