This was the second week of Jason being away, and I worked quite hard at keeping life quiet and routine for Jack. School, home learning with Vishal, my orphanage visits, yoga, squash and pickleball. In the evenings, we finished the Chef's Table noodle series on Netflix and started watching All the Sharks, a shark competition show. Nothing particularly ambitious, which was rather the point.
The Dussehra break had thrown Jack for a loop. He has learned to play badminton and would now quite happily spend all his time on the court, preferably starting the moment he arrives home from school. Since school is only a half day, there is still home learning to do with Vishal, and that has fallen a little by the wayside. Getting the balance back has been hard on him. He is also trying squash lessons and seems to like them. He keeps taking his racket and ball downstairs to do his own ghost playing. I suspect he is half waiting for children to arrive at the badminton court, but he is practising, including the warmups and wall squats. It is lovely to see him engaged in sports and finding somewhere to channel all that excess energy.
Thursday brought a dental clinic at school, which I had found rather a stressful prospect. Jack came home, shrugged and announced that it was easy. They just had pointy things to look in your mouth and count, and a mirror on a pointy thing. He was enormously proud of himself, especially because some of the other children had struggled. He felt like the big brother showing them how it was done. Thank goodness for all those years with the children's dentist in Toronto. Sometimes you get a little reminder of how far he has come.
There has been progress on the balcony too. After about three months, Harriet has officially claimed the whole place as hers. The two basil seedlings have graduated to actual plants, and the tulsi basil I bought is very happy. I had a tulsi and honey iced tea this week, so the next project is to replicate it at home. Another drink experiment was considerably less successful. I tried a juice from one of the vendors outside the botanical gardens, made with beet, carrot, mint, an unidentified green leaf and watermelon rind. It tasted very earthy. Not in the pleasant, wholesome way people describe good vegetables. More like someone had washed a vegetable garden into a glass. I think I will stick with the tea.
On the mundane but necessary front, my bras had started disintegrating shortly after we arrived. Perhaps the heat and humidity, although I have no actual explanation. I had been putting off shopping for weeks, partly because so many expats talk about buying their undergarments when they go home. Eventually, I reminded myself that there are Indian women shaped like me. Many of them, in fact. Surely this could be solved locally. I couldn't find the recommended shop, found another one instead, and was in and out in under half an hour with four bras for less than half the price at home. I had spent considerably longer worrying about the shopping than doing it. I am now feeling very well supported in India, in more ways than one.
Getting my ears pierced again turned out to be similarly easy and painless. The place was recommended by the expat chat group, very clean, with sealed needles. Given how common ear and nose piercing are here, perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. That chat group is an extraordinary resource. You can ask practically anything, and someone has an answer.
An answer to the banking saga remains elusive. Those following along will be glad to know that they have now asked for my father's name and my husband's. Is Dad countersigning it? I still don't have an account, and on Thursday something went wrong with all my cards at Ratnadeep, our local supermarket. There I was, standing at the checkout with a cart full of groceries and no way to pay. Thank goodness Ganesh came to my rescue and paid for everything. It was very embarrassing, but I also felt very blessed to have him there for support. At this point, Ganesh may be the closest thing I have to a functioning Indian bank account.
Meanwhile, my growing dislike of Amazon is encouraging me to learn my way around other shopping apps. Momi got me started on Meesho after an Assamese outfit she had ordered arrived and we were admiring it together. The fabric was so beautiful that she ordered two for me, since I couldn't access the site myself. They have already arrived and are gorgeous. The outfits are a bit like a saree, but with a separate skirt, which seems to offer rather better odds of everything staying around you as you walk. They still need to be made, but Momi has a person. Of course she does. Then I will just need somewhere to wear them.
I also discovered that Nykaa can deliver my La Roche-Posay face wash and Schwarzkopf colour shampoo in two days. Between that and the bras, I am gradually working through the things I thought would be difficult to find here.
Friday night I made risotto, partly for something different and partly as an excuse to have a glass of wine. Vishal was willing to try another sort of rice dish and said he liked it, although he thought it needed chicken masala on the side. I'm not sure what the Italians would say, but it is definitely a subtler flavour than Hyderabadi biryani.
There was also an unsettling newspaper follow-up to the high tea Alessia and I had at Taj Falaknuma Palace. The palace was among the establishments served a food safety notice following an inspection. Reports described expired and mislabelled food, problems with kitchen cleanliness and other violations. The setting had been gorgeous when we visited, although the food had disappointed us. Our friends Pete and Sue, who are coming to visit in February, had wanted to go there. I suggested we might want to reconsider.
Meanwhile, Jason spent the week back in Toronto with a very full schedule. Between a work conference, meetings, dinners and catching up with as many colleagues as possible, he barely had a moment to himself. Of course, I had also sent him with an enormous to-do list, to be completed somewhere between all those commitments. I'm pleased to report that he got through the entire list, although he may be reconsidering the wisdom of leaving me in charge of the shopping list.
He even found time to attend the men's final of the Canadian Open squash championship at BCE Place in Toronto. He live-streamed the match for Nassim, our squash coach here in Hyderabad, who apparently didn't mind being woken at 3:39 a.m. to watch. Nassim knew the players and spent the match telling Jason all about them. Apparently, these guys are international squash celebrities. Who knew? I suppose if you're going to wake your squash coach in the middle of the night, it helps if the people on the court are famous.
Jason also managed to squeeze in an evening at our wine club with our friend Travis. Since our membership is temporarily on hold while we're living in India, Jason called the owner to ask whether a member in that situation could still come by. The answer was a resounding yes! So he and Travis got to spend an evening enjoying a good bottle of wine in that wonderful space. Jason said it was so nice to be back. I think he particularly appreciated having a little time to enjoy one of his favourite Toronto places, especially with a friend, without having to rush off to the next meeting or commitment.
What surprised Jason most was how strange it felt to be home. He loved catching up with friends, family and colleagues, but being in our Toronto house without Jack, Leo and me felt oddly unsettling. He described it as being homesick for Toronto while actually standing in Toronto. All the familiar places and people were there, but the everyday life we had built around them was temporarily on hold. He could visit that life, but he couldn't quite step back into it. We have built a wonderful temporary life here in Hyderabad, but the one in Toronto is still very much ours, and being back reminded him of everything he misses about it.
Leaving Toronto was harder than he expected too. Saying goodbye to his parents and closest friends was emotional, perhaps more so because it will be another ten months before we are back for good. He found it especially difficult leaving Alessia, even though she will be joining us here in six weeks. Knowing you will see someone soon doesn't necessarily make saying goodbye easier.
And then there was Summit. Jason sat down on the floor with him before leaving, and our golden retriever came over, put his paws in Jason's lap and let him give him a long hug. Then he started licking Jason's face. Summit has always been an incredibly empathetic dog, and Jason was convinced he understood that another goodbye was coming. He told him to be a good boy for the next ten months, gave him one last hug and headed for the airport. Hearing that nearly broke my heart.
His journey back did provide one rather unexpected diversion. While passing through Frankfurt airport, Jason spotted two Miss Universe contestants making their way through the terminal. They were impossible to miss, dressed in sparkling outfits, enormous stilettos and their national sashes. He was pretty sure one was Miss Ukraine, although he couldn't make out the country on the other woman's sash. The Miss Universe competition is being held in Puerto Rico later this month, with contestants arriving from all over the world, so presumably they were on their way to the big event. What Jason found particularly entertaining was watching them walk. They moved very gingerly in their towering heels, maintaining all the pomp and glamour expected of international beauty queens. Watching them negotiate the moving sidewalk was apparently hilarious. There is something wonderfully absurd about being dressed for the world stage while trying to remain upright on an airport conveyor belt.
Jason arrived back in Hyderabad with three suitcases, each weighing 33 kilograms, full of things we apparently cannot live without in India. Among them were our juicer and coffee grinder. Jason had grand plans for the juicer. With the incredibly affordable fresh fruit here, and Momi's help preparing and peeling everything, he was going to establish a family juice bar. I was quite looking forward to having someone else take responsibility for the beverages.
Unfortunately, the grand opening was cancelled almost immediately. The juicer, having survived 13,000 kilometres of international travel, was plugged in, made a loud pop and promptly blew the circuit breaker. Jason is worried that the difference in electrical power may have killed it. The coffee grinder's first attempt was even more spectacular. It started shooting flames out of the bottom. I have a feeling that is not part of its normal operating instructions. So we have successfully transported two kitchen appliances halfway around the world, only to discover that neither is particularly interested in working in India. Jason is devastated about the juicer. He really wants juice.
He also managed to bring back eight bottles of white wine. Now, technically, you're only allowed to bring two bottles of wine into India duty-free, so Jason's eight-bottle contribution was somewhat ambitious. Eight bottles is just shy of trafficking, although apparently Jason considered it a perfectly reasonable quantity for personal consumption. The three suitcases provided sufficient opportunity for a little creative distribution. I suspect he considered the wine an essential contribution to our household supplies, and given the quality of the wine we've managed to find locally, I can't entirely disagree. We have yet to discover a good bottle of wine in India, and Jason is clearly determined that we should not have to go without. Between the wine, the juicer, the coffee grinder and everything else on my shopping list, I'm impressed he managed to fit any clothing into those suitcases.
The best surprise in the suitcases was much simpler. Pink Lady apples. So juicy and delicious, they tasted just like the fall harvest in Ontario. It was an unexpected little taste of home, particularly at this time of year when we would normally be enjoying Ontario apples fresh from the orchards. I suppose you take mangoes from India to Toronto and bring apples from Toronto to India. Best import by far, although Jack would give that honour to the Costco pesto or Chef Boyardee ravioli. We all have things we miss.
Jason's arrival also coincided with Diwali, the festival of lights, one of the most important celebrations in India. I had spent quite a lot of the week stressing about getting the right gifts for everyone. We ordered about twelve hampers from Flipside, the school for older students associated with Jack's school. I gave Guruji, our yoga instructor, his on Thursday morning, and now we are all invited to his house for Diwali dinner. I suspect it will be interesting. I wonder who will translate? My Hindi is improving, but I am not entirely sure I am ready for a full evening of dinner conversation.
The fireworks announced themselves with a loud bang on Thursday evening while Leo and I were at the dog park. Thankfully, he barely reacted that time. We had been warned to keep our windows and doors shut over the weekend. The newspapers carried advertisements asking people to keep the noise down and consider air pollution and the environment, while quite a few expats were heading out of town, particularly to Goa, hoping for a quieter weekend.
Here, the fireworks start at six and go on all night. Some are beautiful displays of colour and light, while others seem designed purely to make as much noise as possible. At times, the entire city sounds as though it's under siege. The bangs echo between the buildings, and just as you think things might be quieting down, another round starts somewhere nearby. On Saturday we saw some lovely ones from the balcony, but Leo and Harriet went inside at seven and had no interest in coming back out. Our neighbours had made a beautiful rangoli on the ground with flowers and tea lights, which they left burning unattended. The shop downstairs was selling fireworks, and children were setting them off in the courtyard under the supervision of a security person equipped with a fire extinguisher. There were also little penny fireworks being lit all over the property.
Watching the children brought back memories of the unbridled joy we had with similar things when we were young. There are very good reasons we have become more cautious. Safety, garbage, pollution, frightened animals and children like Jack all matter. But there is also something freeing about the laughter of little kids running around exploding things. I found myself remembering exactly why we had loved it.
Sunday, Diwali Day, also brought an unexpected soundtrack. All morning, the sounds of a cow mooing somewhere in the neighbourhood kept drifting up to our balcony. We couldn't quite figure out where it was coming from, but there was something oddly comforting about it. Jason, freshly returned from Toronto, found it absolutely hilarious. Every time another distant moo floated through the air, he started laughing again. I think it made him genuinely happy to be back in India. After a week of conferences, meetings and airports, apparently a cow somewhere in Hyderabad was all he needed to feel at home.
Jason and I decided we should make our own contribution to the Diwali decorations outside our apartment door. A rangoli is a decorative design traditionally created on the ground near the entrance to a home, using coloured powders, flower petals or other materials. The designs are often intricate and colourful, and during Diwali they are accompanied by diyas, small oil lamps or candles. Our neighbours kindly lent us their stencils, including some beautiful peacock designs, so we could attempt our own.
Armed with flowers, tea lights, stencils and considerably more enthusiasm than experience, we set to work decorating the floor outside our apartment door. We arranged the flower petals into patterns, created the peacocks with the stencils and placed little candles and diyas around the designs. There was a fair bit of crouching, adjusting, standing back to inspect our work and then crouching again. Our neighbours made it look rather effortless. We discovered that getting everything lined up neatly requires a surprising amount of patience, especially when you're trying not to disturb the bit you've just finished.
While we were working, our neighbours explained what Diwali means to them. They described it as a time to let the light into your life to chase away the darkness. I really liked that explanation. The festival celebrates light over darkness and good over evil, but hearing it expressed so simply, while we were sitting on the floor outside our apartment door arranging flowers and candles, made it feel much more personal. It was a lovely way to understand why people put so much care into lighting and decorating their homes.
So our first Diwali in India has included fireworks, gifts, flowers, candles and a little help from the neighbours. We've learned something new, made a respectable attempt at a rangoli and enjoyed being part of a celebration that is happening all around us. Jason is home, the wine has arrived safely, and the kitchen appliances have provided their own rather alarming fireworks. We still don't have any fresh juice, but at least there is plenty of white wine.
…building a rangoli in our apartment entranceway…
Jack learning to set fireworks at school for Diwali… (this would never be a school activity in Canada)…