I feel compelled to dedicate a blog entry to the New Regent Hotel naan  bread in Hephzibah. I probably have rabbitted about them before but I can't help myself.  These naan bread are surely the best I have ever eaten.

I discovered the hotel in 1992 just before I was due to come home. Back then I would order butter naan, finger chips and a coke. Now I am 20 years older I have cut down on the carbohydrate content of the meal and just eat the naan.

I have visited the hotel every time I have been here; 1995, 1998, 2008 and 2015.
When I was here in October I don't think I ate at the hotel. For some reason naan were off the menu. Anyway for the second time this week I called in for lunch. The same waiters who were there in 1992 still work there. Well at least two do anyway.

One poor man can not cope with the fact I only eat a naan bread. I think he would like me to have a curry as well. I left him a generous tip on Tuesday to help him cope with the fact the bill was so small. I guess that is almost like a bribe. Oh dear.  Today I did not sit at the tables where he serves.

The waiter who did serve me was interested enough with my adding jam to the naan bread to comment.

I'm sure they think I am a little crazy.

For the past week something has been running through my bedroom door and out the side door. I thought it was a mouse. Today as it went scurrying past my friend Lochumlo saw it and came running. It disappeared under the bed in a panic and she tried to kill it with my new back pack stored there. I said not my back pack. I threw her a jandal and we moved things under the bed until it ran out into the open. I slapped it with a jandal which slowed it down enough for us to finish it off. BUT it was no mouse- it was a sweet little cockroach.

Well it was not that sweet or small actually.
I took a photo but the camera on this tablet is not good at close-up of insects.

 

 

 

On the bright side I think I would sooner see a cockroach than a mouse especially as I have started a food collection to take home.

Still I think I might need new glasses.

Now I can access the photos on my camera card it is time to write about Gopalpur-on-the sea. We could not decide why it is known as a sea beach. Maybe because there are other types of beaches?

Gopalpur is emerging as an up and coming tourist seaside resort. There are heaps of new buildings going up.


Part way through construction. Many of the workers are women although it is not easy toy spot this.







I am not sure OSH (Occupational Health and Safety) would approve of the poles holding up the ceiling. Seems to be very effective though.
 





Many of the locals are fishermen but I am not sure after watching these clever sailors I would like to take a boat out. It looks calm but the way the boats dip and dive in the light surf makes them a challenge to direct.

Sharing is caring.

Eleven thousand kilometres away my friend Gwen is eating the fruit off the okra I planted in pots and which are growing in her tunnel house. Fortunately in spite of conflicting opinions about whether it is okra season here or not, I bought some today. Half a kilo at the approximate price of 50 cents.That is enough for about two meals if you like a generous portion of okra also called ladies finger or bindi. I recognised the okra seller from when I was here last. It was like seeing an old friend. He would have undoubtedly recognised me.

Unfortunately I did not ask everyone if they wanted to eat okra for dinner before I prepared enough for me.  Then I made the mistake of asking if anyone wanted some after it was cooked. Somebody did of course. The person who said yes was watching me cook it and very likely not knowing my huge okra eating capacity, may well have thought there was too much for one person. Still I did get to eat a sizeable amount and Jesus would have been very pleased with me sharing one of my favourites dishes even if I wasn't.

 

As you can see even though this is a small wok there was quite a bit of okra but in my defence rice and Dahl ( lentil soup) comprised the rest of dinner.

The moral of the story is next time ask who wants okra.

Today I caught the taxi to a church I am particularly fond of. It is quite a traditional service but the church is nearly 200 years old. It was planted by Englishman William Carey. There are marble plaques on the wall commemorating people who made outstanding contributions to the church.

The people are friendly and a cup of tea is offered after the service. Today being Valentines Day everyone was presented with a rose because the speaker said Valentines Day is more than just about couples celebrating their friendship.

I caught up with my two friends Grace and Kobita who have started a school somewhere and I will visit them this week some time.

On the way home Jesus and I got lost. At least Jesus wasn't lost. The one who created the universe and knows the stars by name never gets lost. It all started when we caught the 223 bus which was the right bus. I said where I wanted to get down, Lordsmore, and the conductor seemed to know where that was because he repeated what I said. Anyway a short time into the journey he told me we had reached my stop. It did not look like my stop and after I got down it was not where I wanted to be. Mind you I was not exactly sure where I was but then I figured it out.  I walked a little way wondering whether to take the soft option and catch a taxi or whether to catch another bus. Eventually another 223 turned up so I caught it and asked to be let down at South City which is the mall not far from the other stop.

Wonder of wonders I made it home.

I am sitting in the airport café feeling ecstatically excited because not only have I just drunk three coffees but I have managed to connect to its free hotspot. The magnitude of my excitement is exacerbated by the caffeine but also the fact I have seven hours to fill in and now I can catch up on my blog. Not sure my tablet's battery will last that long though!!

I should add that the coffee cup size is about a third of a mug.

I am a little concerned because there are mosquitoes buzzing around me in a hungry sort of way. It escapes me how they manage to get inside. I guess through the door?Mosquitos do not always play by the rules like the one that says mosquitoes come out at dusk and dawn.

I had an interesting train ride as always. There was much to see and enjoy. Like the three men who sat above our heads on the wire luggage rack because there were no empty seats. Too much.

Fortunately the men dressed in saris did not board the train this journey. I am not sure what their exact title is, eunuch, transsexual, but they like to come on board and ask for donations. They tend to hunt in packs and it would be a brave person who would say no to them.

I think my flight is leaving later than my ticket says but I do not know for sure as the lure of coffee was greater than my need to know. I will have some lunch soon but as I have seven hours to fill in I might wait a little longer.

Maybe I will have another coffee....

If the slipper fits wear it Cinderella

Hi ho hi ho its off to Hephzibah I go. In a couple of days I am off to one of my favourite cities again.

If you are reading this blog/journal for the first time you might like to know, it is my attempt to process the challenges of living in another culture and share it with anyone who is interested. It is not easy crossing the sometimes invisible boundaries of culture into a land where our own cultural capital, is redundant or at the very least takes a back seat but I have discovered sharing the experience is very therapeutic!!

The way things happen sometimes in Hephzibah is hilariously funny to me and at times incomprehensible because I am an outsider looking in. If I were part of the culture, the things I find funny as an outsider, would not be funny at all because they would be normal to me. Whatever normal looks like. And if I were an insider I might even find an outsider's hilarity rather offensive.

So if you are an insider reading this blog please be advised I am not poking fun at your culture but at my inability to interpret what is going on. I am also entertained by my efforts to live according to the unspoken rules everyone but me, it seems, knows about. You see I really do try to be an insider but most of the time that status eludes me.

I've taken off my own slippers but the new ones I am trying to walk in are very sloppy because they are too big and sometimes I forget to take them off at the door.

However, rest assured I will keep putting one foot after the other.