Bhubaneswar Lites - ClaudiAntics - BootsnAll Travelogues

October 20, 2003

Bhubaneswar Lites

My first real job was at a newspaper, The Roanoke Times, in Virginia. One of my favorite parts of the job was skimming the news wires, and over the New York Times wire there would now and again be an awesome gem called "NY Lites". It was put together by someone, or maybe a couple of someones, at the New York Times, and it was just a big composite of anecdotes, jokes, overheard conversations, you name it. It's one of the most enjoyable things I've ever read, and as I go through India, I'm going to try to do something similar. Here we go... with Bhubaneswar Lites:

For starters, Bhubaneswar is pronounced "Boob-ah-ness-wahr". It's taken me ages to figure that out.

Open sewers line the streets. On either side of the street, there'll be a shallow ditch, about 2-ft wide. Sometimes it's covered, often it's not; it always smells and reminds you how important it is to mind where you step, lest you become knee-deep in, well, I'll just leave that to your imagination.

The mosquitos here are the worst I've dealt with so far. Why are they so much worse here, than in Kolkata or Varanasi? See above: nothing like a few miles of foul standing water to make a mozzie heaven.

The people here boggle me. My kindly optimistic side notes how laidback folks are, how mellow the city feels, how people say hello and seem genuinely curious, wanting to just chat, and aren't after anything at all. Sure. My wary side wonders what's behind each question, and just as many innocently curious folks are plenty offset by the wallahs and touts who want to be friends with my rupees. People often ask me for the time, for example; it's odd and random, and Claudia says she vaguely recalls hearing that's a lead-up to watch theft: they ask the time, so they can see if your watch is worth swiping. So far, my $18 Bi-Mart cheapie hasn't attracted anything more than questions.

I keep mispronouncing "naan". I keep saying "nan", as if I were talking to my grandma: "Nan", "Nannah", "Nanny". Claudia keeps correcting me; "nahn" Ah. Ahhhhhh. Open your mouth and say - "Naan." I think I've got it now.

Monday morning, our last day in Bhubaneswar. We'll leave for Bangalore at 3a.m. It's 10a.m.; Claudia is in the room reading, and I'm back at the Tulsi, where we got yesterday's samosas - and nothing else. More ordering debacles have already ensued.

I got my coffee just fine, but I'm learning that in India you always have to repeat your order in full, at least twice, to up your chances of getting everything. After 10 minutes, I had no samosas. I waved over my waiter and asked, "How long for samosas ready?"

"No."

"No samosas?"

"Juice?"

Dammit, not again! I thought. "No. No juice." I pointed to "Samosa" under the "Snaxs" (or "tiffin") part of the menu. "Samosa," I explained.

"Ah. Sah-mosa." I caught how his pronunciation differed from mine.

"Yes. Sah-mosa. One," I said mimicking him and holding up one finger.

"Okay."

A couple of minutes later, I was snacking on my sah-mosas. I sipped my coffee. Here's to better travels in India, I thought, one syllable at a time.

Speaking of samosas, if you're in Bhubaneswar, Tulsi (on Kalpana Square across from Hotel Padma) actually is a good and safe place to get a couple or 10. For 5 rupees you get 2 samosas, along with a sweet yet slightly fiery chilli sauce on the side. (A samosa, btw, is a sort of fried pastry, stuffed with a mix of peas, chickpeas, potatoes and spices.) My 4 samosas from this morning - a whopping 10R, or about 25 cents - set me until late afternoon.

And lastly...

A tiffin stand across the street from the Udayagiri Caves (more on that another time). Claudia and I are waiting out some rain, under a thatch-and-blue-tarp roof. We're sitting in red plastic chairs, drinking 7-Ups - very refreshing after spending a couple of hours walking over hills and cave rock in the midday sun and sticky air.

Behind us, 4 trays are set at a tilt in front of the frying counter. Pakoras, samosas, other crispy snaxs keep catching my eye - which in turn catches the eye of our "boy," who asks if I want any. I say no; the snaxs have been sitting out for a while, which increases the odds of dodginess, and dodginess causes mad loo dashes - something I don't need on the upcoming 30-hour train ride to Bangalore.

At a break in the rain, we go to pay for the sodas. "The bottle says 6 rupees," Claudia tells me.

I dig out 12R as we go to the counter, but no attendants are both visible and available. Claudia steps around, sees a guy; we hand over the coin. The man raises 2 fingers. "Two more," he says.

This catches me off-guard, but Claudia is already swinging. "What!" Her eyes flash. Poor bugger.

"Seven rupee."

"Six is printed on the bottle."

"No. Seven."

"Six is on the bottle." I would not want to be on the receiving end of her glare. Neither does he. "Okay," he says, while doing the diagonal tilt-head-shake-looking nod that, until you get used to this Indian gesture, looks a bit like a nervous tic. (Sorry, it does!) We walk off, shaking our heads and grinning at the absurdity of the ripoff attempt.

Posted by Ant on October 20, 2003 02:34 PM
Category: India

Comments

Eureka. I just got it. sa-mosas... well the mosas part of it, must be sounding like mosambee to the hotel guy.. (which is sweet lime), hence the insistence of juice.. hahahahha

Posted by: Dusty on October 20, 2003 02:55 PM

Waah...I am from the same place:) And i concur with the potholes, mosquitoes, laidback, and many other things you might have noticed but forgot to put here. I stayed not far from the Hotel Padma you talked about, close to the Kalpana square, though never had a chance to grub the samosas there. I kinda like sweets. I guess you wont come down there again, but just in case, gimme a call if around. I can take you around for free, and some great healthy food. And off the beaten track.

Posted by: foobaz on December 17, 2003 09:23 AM

thanx foobaz - like you, I've got a big "samosa tooth" myself. We're not sure when we're coming back to India, but we definitely plan on it. Perhaps next time we can get together, if you're still around. I'd love to see some of the surrounding countryside (we got a great view of it from the hills around the Udayigiri Caves), plus we still need to see Konark and Pure!

Posted by: Ant on December 18, 2003 12:23 AM