Me with the three other volunteers in Kerala and Father Thomas John, our site coordinator. (Left to right: Sarah, Cynthia, Cameron, Father Thomas John, Tyler)
It was raining at 3am when our flight arrived in India on September 2. As I stepped outside the airport, Kerala hit me like a wave. The heat, the smells, the people, the car horns (even at 3am). The rain. September and October are the months that end the rainy season in Kerala. It doesn’t rain every day, but more than once I’ve had the pleasure of falling asleep to heavy rain or thunderstorms. It has now been three weeks since I arrived in Kerala, and I am amazed at how quickly I’ve adjusted to my new life here.
Food:
The food in Kerala is wonderful. I know many Americans (including myself) who say, “I love Indian food.” As I’ve learned over the past few weeks, there is no such thing as “Indian” food. The food I ate at Indian restaurants in the U.S. is very different from the food I’m eating here. This is Kerala cuisine. The staple food in Kerala (and in most Asian countries) is rice. I think I’ve eaten more rice in the last three weeks than I have in the 22 years that came before. But I’ve also tasted rice in a greater variety of forms than I ever knew existed. Rice paddies, rice noodles, flat rice bread, raised rice bread, rice I sweet drinks, rice with curry, boiled rice, baked rice, etc. Each rice dish has it’s own distinct flavor and texture, and I’m only now beginning to differentiate between some of the dishes.
I admit that, although the food here is excellent, I’ve had many moments in the last three weeks when I’ve longed for cold cereal for breakfast or a plate of spaghetti for dinner instead of another unknown and very spicy curry. I’ve caught myself missing all the familiar comfort foods, like peanut butter or brownies or minestrone soup. It has certainly taken time for me to get used to the spicy, rice-heavy foods in Kerala. But I think I have (mostly) adjusted to the new cuisine. This past week I’ve been excited about certain foods here that I know I like: packed rice noodles and coconut for breakfast, potato curry and flat rice bread for dinner. I’m pleased to say that Kerala’s cuisine has welcomed me with open arms and that, after three weeks, I’m happy to embrace it back.
Clothing:
After our first week in Kerala, Sarah (the other female volunteer) and I adopted Indian clothing. Now in public I almost always wear a churidhar. Churidhars are the outfits traditionally worn by young women, although they are becoming more common among women of all ages because they’re more comfortable than saris. A churidhar consists of full-length baggy pants, a short-sleeve tunic that falls approximately to the knees, and a scarf that drapes back off the shoulders. The whole ensemble is a little tricky to put on because the tunic is tailor-made to fit your body. I also find the outfit a bit stifling in Kerala’s hot, humid climate. If I were in this climate back home, I would be wearing shorts and a tank top. But, of course here, showing that much skin would be inappropriate. As I adjust to wearing the churidar, I have discovered that they are actually very comfortable, and because they include less fabric than a traditional sari, they’re probably also cooler. More importantly I’ve found that when I’m wearing a churidhar, everyone is more welcoming and friendly with me. That’s not to say that people in Kerala aren’t normally friendly, but it’s somehow different when I’m wearing Indian clothing. The women in particular seem to appreciate my (rather clumsy) attempt to take part in this aspect of their culture, as though my clothing were an acknowledgement of the value and beauty of Indian culture, which, I guess, it is. Churidhars, like saris, are beautiful, and they seem to me all the more beautiful because they are expressions of the culture from whence they come. With coordinated colors and patterns, they act as paint brushes on the streets, lighting up the towns and the countryside of Kerala. And when I wear my churidhar, I feel included and welcomed into this colorful solidarity of Indian women and their culture.
Weather:
Kerala is too hot for me. Perhaps that’s because I grew up in northern Minnesota where winter lasts about six months and “summer” only two. Yet, September in Kerala, which feels like an unusually hot Minnesota summer, isn’t even one of the hot months here. Summer comes in March, April, and May, and then it will really be too hot for me. I think it’s the humidity more than anything else. The air is heavy and damp with about 80% humidity every day and 100% on the days when it rains. Slowly, I’m adjusting to the hot, sticky weather. Now, when I walk into an air-conditioned building, the cold air is shocking to me, and I’m actually glad that most places, including houses and schools, do not have AC. Living in this climate will be a continuous challenge for me, but I think it’s a challenge that I can meet.
Since my early morning arrival in India on the September 2, I’ve been trying to discern and describe the air here and particularly the smell of the air. Of course, I’m not in a large Indian city like Delhi or Calcutta, which are full of smells of people. All I can say for certain is that the air in Kerala smells different than the air at home. It’s not the stereotype of Indian air that smells of spices (unless you’re near the kitchen). I think the air is sweeter and dustier here than it is in Minnesota. It is full of life. Like the air in a sports stadium full of people is alive, but also like the scent of a greenhouse, full of the smell of green growing things. But maybe it’s just the humidity. The texture of the air. It presses against you, hugging you as though to welcome you.
