Category: India

Indian Food

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Here is the long-overdue epic Indian food post.

Northern India

I ate lots of delicious things when I was in West Bengal, right after I entered India. The Tibetan influence is strong from all the waves of immigration. I’m a big fan of momos, Tibetan dumplings which are made with slightly thicker dough than Chinese ones. The ones in the photo below came from the restaurant in Jaldapara National Park. I also had a giant meal of rice and two dishes – mixed vegetables and butter paneer. Butter chicken is jokingly known as the dish white Americans order from Indian restaurants because they can’t handle the spice. However, I’d never had the vegetarian version made with paneer (Indian cheese) so I figured I should try it. It was okay, but I truly enjoy a little more heat in my food. My other favorite part of many of my meals in India were getting mixed sodas. These usually have a base of lemon or lime juice, sparkling water, and both salt and sugar added. Not everyone likes salty-sweet lemonades and limeades, but in the hot weather, I am a huge fan. Side note: Mexican limonadas are made the same way.

I ate thukpa (a Tibetan noodle soup made with curry powder and vegetables) at the highly recommended Kunga’s Restaurant in Darjeeling. I waited in line for about twenty minutes and was about to give up when a woman came out and said she had room for one. I ended up sharing a table with a Bengali couple from Kolkata who were taking a long holiday weekend in the highland cooler temperatures. The whole restaurant had maybe seven or eight tables with barely any room to walk. Just as I sat down and ordered my food, the entire staff sat down around the one big table in back to eat their lunch. My new friends shared travel and festival recommendations from Kolkata while we waited a rather long time for our food to arrive. However, when it finally came, the soup was delicious and I even ordered some steamed vegetable momos to go.

vegetarian momos with dipping sauce; mixed lemon soda, rice, curried vegetables and butter paneer; vegetable thukpa

Panaji

I mentioned in an earlier post my love for Cafe Tato. They serve traditional Goan food and delicious breakfast and snacks. Chole masala is very similar to what is often called chana masala in Indian restaurants in the United States. It refers to the Punjabi way of making it, which has a very specific set of spices. Puri is delicious puffy fried bread. The best way to eat the chole is to break off a piece of puri and scoop it up with your hands. After living in Morocco for two years, I’m a big fan of not using utensils at every meal. I used the puri to eat the mushroom dish in the pictures below and I also got to try a mushroom samosa for the first time.

chole masala, puri, mushroom bhaji, mushroom samosa

Panaji was hot and I was mostly thinking about cooling down whenever I stopped for refreshments. A tiny shop across my hotel was selling these kokum coolers which were sweet and tangy. An Amul ice cream shop was a quick stop for me to escape a rainstorm. And, of course, the only hot item on here is a masala chai. I could only really drink these in the morning, because by the afternoon it was too hot.

kokum cooler, chopped almonds ice cream, masala chai

One of my favorite things to do when I visit any new place is to go into supermarkets and buy all kinds of snacks that I’ve never had before. I bought all these in Panaji and slowly made my way through them over the next few days. The sour gummy feet were like sour candies everywhere. The bugles made from billet were tastier than I thought they’d be, but they still tasted healthy. Monkers are just cheap M&Ms and the sesame balls were harder than I thought they’d be. Sabudana is actually made from sago flour and usually has the consistency of tapioca. However, these were puffed, mixed with peanuts and tiny fried potato sticks, and had the salty-sweet flavor of kettle corn. It was definitely one of my favorites.

gummy feet, millet bugles, monkers (like m&ms) and sesame balls, sabudana mix

Arambol

Arambol is much better known for its beach scene than its food. However, there was one bakery in town with a blue awning that was famous for its baked goods. Its chocolate croissants were not exactly croissants, but they were made with dark chocolate and were tasty and cheap. The mango cheesecake was passable. However, the prize for best food in Arambol unexpectedly went to a little cafe on the beach. My friend and I got a vegetarian biryani, which is a mixed rice dish cooked with vegetable and spices. This one even came with fried onions on top and was absolutely divine.

best chocolate croissant in Arambol, delicious vegetarian biryani, mango cheesecake

Old Goa

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Velha Goa

After my yoga training, I headed back into the heart of Goa and signed up for a walking tour of Velha Goa (Portuguese for “Old Goa”). This city started out as a Muslim sultanate, but the Portuguese came in with guns ablazing and conquered it in 1510. Most of the Catholic orders sent priests here after it was conquered and each separate order set up a church. I felt, in many ways, like I was walking through an old European city. There’s a common refrain among travelers in Europe about being tired of touring churches and this is probably the only place in India where the same thing might be heard. My walking tour featured five churches that were all within a couple miles of each other. All of the churches and convents in the area are designated a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Viceroy’s Arch, old city walls dating back to the sultanate, closeup of fancy door work

St. Cajetan Church was built by Italian Catholics. Although the Portuguese initially didn’t want the Italian priests to construct a church, one of them went to Portugal and convinced the king to let them build it in the interests of spreading Christianity. My favorite part was finding a garuda carved into the pulpit. As a way of converting locals, symbols from previous beliefs and ideologies were integrated into the architecture.

St. Cajetan Church: from the outside, big domed ceiling, upclose of the pulpit with garuda motif

The next two were both built by the Portuguese. The Sé Cathedral is known for two things: it is the largest church in India and it is unsymmetrical since one of the towers fell down and was never rebuilt. The Church of St. Francis of Assisi was built by Portuguese Franciscan priests. The doors leading into this church had fun carvings of cashew and pomegranate fruits.

Sé Cathedral, close-up of fruit motifs in door frame, Church of St. Francis of Assisi

Next up was the tiny Portuguese Chapel of St. Catherine with a lovely brick interior and a colony of bats roosting in the ceiling. Last, but certainly not least, was the famous Basilica of Bom Jesus, built by Portuguese Jesuits. It is a large, sprawling building and many believers make a pilgrimage to visit. The first Jesuit missionary to Japan, St. Francis Xavier, is entombed there.

Chapel of St. Catherine, view of the altar inside St. Catherine, Basilica of Bom Jesus

Goan Food

After the tour of Old Goa, I visited a spice plantation outside of town. I took lots of photos, but most of the plants weren’t actually fruiting when we were there so my pictures aren’t worth sharing. We did get to see kokum, cinnamon, and black pepper trees as well as lemongrass and cardamom plants. Kokum fruits are related to mangosteens and are quite tasty in juice form. The farm also offered a lovely lunch served with a refreshingly salty and sweet drink known as kokum curry and samples of cashew feni, alcohol made from the cashew fruit. To help us deal with the heat, at the end of the tour, they poured a ladle full of scented water down the back of each of our shirts. Although momentarily refreshing, it was so hot our clothes were dry less than fifteen minutes later. Indian heat is no joke.

fresh young coconut, spice plantation lunch, kokum curry, pav bhaji street food

Yoga Teacher Training in Goa

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Arambol

I spent three weeks doing a 200-hour teacher training in Arambol, a small town in north Goa that was part of the hippie trail in the seventies. I was the oldest person in the training class by about 10 years and I must admit I shed many tears the first week. I wasn’t very good at the poses. My body wasn’t flexible. I felt like the stereotypical overweight American compared to all these young, tiny, bendy people. We had 2 hours of yoga in the morning and 2 hours in the afternoon and in between were classes on anatomy, alignment, and philosophy. We got a full day off on Sunday and had a half day on Saturday. It was 90F almost every day and I would regularly have to stop mid-pose to wipe the sweat off my mat and my body so I wouldn’t slip.

However, I kept showing up to every class and I got better because I was regularly practicing yoga. It’s amazing how much body and mind can adjust to difficulty. I slowly made some friends and by the end of the training, another student was like “your Downward Dog is actually pretty good now” and I just grinned from ear to ear.

I’m not trying to become a yoga teacher, but I’m happy that I didn’t give up and kept doing the asanas even when I didn’t want to. Shout out to everyone who sent me text messages and encouraged me when I was feeling down. This may seem like a small thing, but I remember the first time I was in plank pose and I managed to bring my right foot up in line with my hands. I had never been able to do that before and I remember internally shouting with joy. I always had to scoot my foot forward because I didn’t have the flexibility. Yoga training allowed me to see my body gain strength and flexibility in real time. I’m thankful that I took this time to delve into something that was so out of my comfort zone. Growth can be so painful, but ultimately so good for the soul. I’m clearly a fan of Type II fun. 🙂

me & Gabi at the beach; Susanna, Pradnya, and me on the shala roof; roommate Mila and me

The training started and ended with ceremonies and Pradnya and I designed both of the mandalas that we gathered around. The rest of the students and staff were ripping the petals off all the flowers so we could fill in the outline. The training also offered a bunch of activities that were yoga-adjacent. In the heat, I was probably most excited for the ice bath experience in the middle of the day. Other folks struggled a bit more with the freezing water, but it felt a lot like jumping in alpine glacier lakes in the Sierras. Definitely cold, but tolerable.

beginning mandala, closing mandala, me in an ice bath in a barrel

Because of the heat, we had a lot of downtime in the middle of the day. I read quite a few novels while I was there, because even after a refreshingly cold shower, I didn’t want to do anything but hang out inside. I was perpetually washing my three yoga outfits since I would sweat through them every single practice. Our training was right at the beginning of monsoon season, so after big afternoon rain showers, the power would frequently go out for the rest of the night.

me in a sari at closing ceremony; Tina, Dheeraj, and Mila reading at a beachside restaurant when the lights went out, me in a ginormous banyan tree

We spent a lot of weekends at the nearby beaches of the Arabian Sea. There were always a lot of stares from Indian men, but we eventually found some spots that were a bit more isolated without as many onlookers. Pradnya taught me the Hindi word tharki which roughly translates to pervert. It sounds a lot like the English word turkey and it became an inside joke about yet another “Uncle Tharki” whenever men came over to try and take photos of us. India is hard travel for women. We did find a bunch of cool shells and lots of cuttlefish bones washed up on the sand.

sunset siliqua shell, Kentish plover, cuttlefish bone, Oriental garden lizard

One of the perks of the shala was the random wildlife living around us. There were a couple of lizards that joined us for our morning breathwork. Sometimes we stopped in the middle of practice to watch the pack of langur monkeys that came scampering over the roof. Darkness and rain brought out frogs that lived around the stairwell. There were also some lovely large spiders and grasshoppers always hanging about.

friends at the shala: Indian tree frog, pantropical huntsman spider, grasshopper, Malabar gray langur

Yashwantgad Fort

The yoga place did arrange one really fascinating trip just over the state border into Maharashtra. On the way there, we got pulled over by the police and our driver didn’t have his identification on him, so they had to offer him some Gandhis (Indian rupee bills all have Gandhi on them) so we could keep going.

We spent the morning at the beach, but eventually went on a tour of Yashwantgad Fort near the town of Redi. In my ignorance, I figured it was a Portuguese colonial fort, but, no, it was built in the early 1700’s by the ruling Marathas. At that time, the Maratha Empire (aka as the Confederacy) covered most of the territory of present-day India. However, there was a lot of fighting between local groups and this fort was built to shore up their defenses along the coast. Eventually the British, starting on the east coast, started chipping away at the edges of the territory and eventually took over almost everything.

The fort itself has a storied history with the Portuguese eventually claiming it and the Marathas fighting to get it back. Regardless, the fort is still stunning today. The Indian government has done a huge amount of reconstruction work and it is in beautiful shape. The best part are the huge trees growing in and around the fort making intricate abstract patterns. It reminded me a lot of Ta Prohm, a temple in Angkor Wat, that also has trees growing out of its roof. This was definitely one of my favorite places on the Indian part of my trip.

beautiful archway, round parapet, tree roots slowly reclaiming the fort

views of the courtyard, more trees growing out of the fort, overlooking the beach where we swam

Panjim

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Panaji City

Panaji (also known as Panjim) is the capital city of the state of Goa. I arrived there on May first, which was Labour Day (labour spelled with a u because of the British). Almost everything was closed and the streets were relatively empty, so I just wandered around town.

There was a huge parade of workers walking from one side of town to a gathering in the central park. It was fascinating to see all the different groups coming together. I saw banners for brewers, concrete workers, and beach club employees. There is a small river that runs near the city and there’s a shaded boardwalk that meanders through the mangroves that grow on each side of the river.

Although India is often associated with British colonization, Goa was originally a colony of the Portuguese. Vasco de Gama and his crew were the first to arrive, and by the early 1500’s the Portuguese had established a significant stronghold in the area. This part of India remained part of Portugal until the 1950’s when they achieved their independence. They ultimately voted to become a part of the rest of India which had become independent in 1947. The signs of Portuguese influence are everywhere. For example, in the center of Panaji stands the Immaculate Conception Church, built in 1541 to serve Catholic Portuguese sailors.

Labour Day parade, Immaculate Conception Church, mosaic bridge over the Rio de Ourém

The parks of Panaji are decorated with some interesting sculptures. The one in all the tourist books is of Abbé Faria, a Goan Catholic priest who was a master of hypnotism. The central park contains a modern sculpture dedicated to Tristão de Bragança Cunha, an anti-colonial activist who called for Goan independence from Portugal. He was arrested for organizing against Portuguese rule and spent several years in prison. Once released, he continued his liberation work and published a newspaper dedicated to the cause. My favorite sculpture, though, was probably the awkwardly helmeted Indian gaur planted right next to the main road.

statue of Abbé Faria hypnotising a subject, sculpture dedicated to TB Cunha, Indian gaur

I stayed in the Fontainhas area of Panjim when I was there. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage site due to the colorful houses dating to the time of Portuguese rule. In addition to the white churches, there are also relatively recently built Hindu temples. There are more Hindus in Goa now, but there are still many practicing Christians.

colorful Fontainhas house, Shri Hanuman Temple, Shri Vithal Rakhumai Mandir

One of my favorite parts of Panaji was the colorfully decorated stairs all over the Fontainhas area. It was probably over 100F and I was sweating profusely. Not much was open, so I just kept walking along abandoned streets, turning randomly at corners, and truly just stumbled upon these hidden gems.

bottom of stairway decorated with books, rainbow stairs, peacock stairs

Goan Food

The Portuguese influence is definitely reflected in the food. Xacuti was traditionally a coconut curry dish usually prepared with seafood, but is now offered in a variety of meat (and meatless) options. This is often served with poi, a small bread with a pocket, similar to a pita. On Labour Day, only a few restaurants were open, but I found the air-conditioned all-vegetarian Cafe Tato and it felt like I’d walked into paradise. I ate there probably 3 or 4 times and everything was delicious. It’s an iconic establishment that serves up awesome food all day long, but is known for its breakfast. That morning, I ate sukhi bhaji, a potato dish with a side of deep-fried puffed puri and a perfectly sweetened cup of masala chai. On another trip, I had batata wada, basically fried potato fritters. I have some more Indian food to share, but I’m going to leave the rest for another post.

xacuti with poi, suki bhaji with puri and masala chai, batata wada

Cashew Festival

I ended up in Panaji a few times during my month in Goa, but I want to highlight one special day. At the time, I was doing a yoga teacher training about an hour away, but another student Gabi and I taxied in for the Goa Cashew Festival. Cashews grown in Goa are sold all over the city and many local and foreign tourists return home with bags of these nuts. The festival was held in a big open space with a glittering disco ball cashew welcoming us to the festivals. In case you don’t know, the nut of the cashew actually hangs out from the bottom of the fruit. The fruit itself is very astringent, and to be honest, I’m not a big fan.

All around the festival square were local restaurants selling cashew-based dishes and a few agricultural initiatives showing off different cashew varieties. There was a huge stage set up for a cashew-inspired fashion show and tons of little booths selling cashews with lots of different flavors. (My favorite was the Sriracha.) We got hit with an unexpected downpour and ended up hiding under a table to eat our cashew dinner. The rain finally stopped long enough for us to grab some cashew ice cream before we had to head back to the shala.

me and the disco ball cashew, Gabi and I hiding under a table, fashion show, enjoying our cashew ice cream

Darjeeling

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Bit of History

From Jaldapara, it’s about a 4 hour drive to Darjeeling. I didn’t have a lot of time, so I hired a taxi and off we drove through the turning, winding backcountry roads of West Bengal. This part of India is near the border and there are many signs of the historical movement between India and neighboring countries. There are Buddhist temples, prayer flags, and restaurants advertising momos in most small towns we passed through. In the case of the Gurkhas, the border crossed them. Gurkhas (or Gorkhas) are Nepali-speaking Indians who I had heard about before in a military context. They first fought against the British East Indian Company in the Anglo-Nepalese War. The British lost many battles before they finally won enough to force a peace treaty which gave them access to land outside of India. Later, the Gurkhas fought in the British Indian Army during World War II. Even today, they are still heavily recruited for many armies around the world. Because they speak a different language and have different customs than other Indians, they have experienced ethnic discrimination and violence. In response, they started a movement to establish a Gorkhaland state (carved out of West Bengal) in an effort to attain more political and social power.

In addition to the Gurkhas, there are Tibetan refugees who fled their home, starting after the 1959 uprising which caused the Dalai Lama to move to India. That immigration pattern has continued through subsequent Tibet-China disputes. There are also Bhutanese who left their country in political protest before the democratic reforms were instituted in the last twenty years.

During British colonization times, Darjeeling was set up as a summer retreat for British officials. It’s known as a “hill station” because it was a station in the hills, much cooler than the lowlands. That is still true today and I met a Bengali couple who had come to Darjeeling to escape the super hot temperatures (45 C/113 F) in Kolkata. The British started growing tea in the countryside, and there are still tea plantations sprawling out from the town in just about every direction. Because I only had a couple days, I didn’t actually make it to out to any of them, but I did buy a bunch of tea to see if I could taste the difference between leaves from the first flush (spring harvest) and those from the second flush (summer harvest) once I get home.

en route to Darjeeling: motorcycle moving mattresses, funny faced Assam Macaque, tea at the very British establishment Glenary’s

Toy Train

The Darjeeling Toy Train gets its name from the fact that it operates on tiny engines and narrow gauge rails (2 ft). I managed to, once again, wade through the bureaucracy of opening an online account for an Indian government agency and reserved a spot on one of the sightseeing trips that goes to the nearby town of Ghum and then returns. There was a choice of authentic steam engines (running on coal) or diesel engines and I went for the original coal that included an extra fee. In retrospect, I might have chosen diesel, because the coal-powered train produced a lot of smelly smoke that entered into the passenger cars while the train chugged up the hills.

stoking the coals, lots of steam, train worker’s hands, tracks alongside buildings

The trains don’t move very fast along and there’s a stop at the Batasia Loop which is how they used to get the trains to change directions within a small amount of space while keeping the train on the tracks. The loops basically function the same way freeway on-ramps work today. On a different section of the track, the train has zig-zag switchbacks to climb altitude quickly. Imagine a zig-zag track going up the side of a mountain. The train goes from one section to the next by first climbing forward, pulling into a level area, switching the track, and then reversing backwards up the next section. There’s a little train in Northern California that does this and it’s quite an experience.

One of the best parts of the ride is seeing all the nearby buildings. The tracks are right in the middle of these small towns and the walls of these houses shake every time a train comes through. Because the train is moving so slowly, it’s easy to people watch and enjoy the scenery. Upon arrival at Ghum station, the train stopped for the workers to fill up on coal and for the tourists to get a bite to eat and visit a small museum. Inside was an article about Mark Twain (a fellow native Missourian) riding the railway in 1896. Although there are many quotes associated to the man that are not actually true, apparently he wrote that the day riding the Darjeeling Toy Train was “the most enjoyable day I have spent on Earth.” This is probably because he rode down from the Ghum station to Darjeeling in a hand-car at whatever speed gravity propelled them and that surely must’ve felt like an extended roller coaster ride moving rather quickly around the loops and turns.   

Ghum station, dog following rules in the train station (the sign says nothing about lying down), more buildings close to tracks

After the museum, I opted for some warm masala chai in a clay cup since it was quite a bit chillier at the higher elevation. Darjeeling is surrounded on all sides by the Himalayas, and its known to have spectacular view of the third-highest mountain in the world, Mt. Kangchenjunga. Unfortunately for me, it was foggy and cloudy every single day I was there, so my views were not very breathtaking.

When traveling, I’m a big fan of trying all the candies and treats that I can’t get in the United States. Although I am not a huge fan of Snickers, the kesar pista (saffron pistachio) version was actually pretty tasty. Cadbury Gems are basically M&M’s and the Cadbury Fuse is basically peanuts, creme and caramel.

chai from Ghum station, view of Kangchenjunga, Indian treats

Himalayan Mountain Institute

One of the ongoing jokes from my trip to Bhutan was my desire to see a red panda. My guide kept telling me we might see one on our Merak-Sakteng trek or along the drive back to Paro, but eventually we were at lower elevations and it was clear that it wasn’t going to happen. Once he found out I was going to Darjeeling, he assured me I would see one there and he was right. The Darjeeling Zoo has a few of these adorable creatures on display. These are not closely related genetically to the giant panda at all, and are much closer to raccoons and skunks. Scientists have placed them into their own family branch that belongs to only them and their now extinct ancestors.

Inside the zoo is also the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute whose first Field Director was Sherpa Tenzing Norgay. Along with Edmund Hillary, they were the first people to reach the top of Mount Everest in 1953. The Institute was set up shortly thereafter to encourage others to participate in the sport. The museum includes clothing and equipment that was used in the early days of mountaineering.

red panda, quote from Tenzing Norgay, statue of the famous Sherpa

Onwards to India: Jaldapara National Park

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Leaving Bhutan

Many weeks have passed, but I wrote this the day I left Bhutan: One of the things travel does for me is that it reawakes my sensitivities to the world around me. I arrived in Bhutan, jet-lagged and tired from two days of long travel and I remember looking out the window from the car from the airport. Everything was new to my eyes. Prayer flags everywhere. Intricate wooden construction of houses, painted in meticulous detail. I remember thinking everything was beautiful, but also everything was so different from everything I know and understand.

Although it has only been two weeks, I’m leaving and the leaving is also tainted with sadness. The buildings no longer look strange. The prayer flags blend into the background of every scene. The things that once stirred me to wonder are just a part of the world I’m in. And I think that’s what brings the sadness – the leaving of comfort, the leaving of familiarity, the leaving of kindness and friendship of people who I still barely know.

It’s always a weird feeling to be going off on my own again.

Entering India

It was immediately apparent that I was no longer in Bhutan. That atmosphere had changed completely. Calm, chill, peaceful, green. Chaos, trash, noise, city. I was joking with our driver that he hadn’t used the horn in four hours of driving in Bhutan, but had used it three times just getting from the border to our parking spot in India. He definitely possessed bicultural driving skills.

My guide Tenzin got me through all the border shenanigans of stamped paperwork. He had gone to school in Darjeeling and was chatting away in Hindi with all the border guards. In addition to Dzongkha, he speaks a local dialect of the language used in his village near Trongsa, Hindi, and English.

Before finding me a taxi to my next stop, we all went out to get lunch. On the way, a bunch of cattle came sauntering down the street. Tenzin practically tackled me to make sure I didn’t get run over. Another few cattle came by and although they weren’t moving so fast, one of them swung their poop-covered tail in my direction leaving a giant brown mark across my shirt and my right hand. Our driver was similarly splattered. Welcome to India.

I cleaned myself up at the restaurant and had a lovely meal of masala dosa before being packaged into a taxi and sent on my way to Jaldapara National Park, located a mere hour away from the border crossing. Once out of the border city of Jaigaon, the honking and general noise gave way to acres of tea plantations and relative calm.

Jaldapara National Park

Even a couple weeks before we started the trip, my post-Bhutan plans kept changing. Originally, we were going to leave through the border on the eastern side of Bhutan into India. Our tour agency thought that border might open up by the time we got there, but it was still closed. This meant we needed to do a massive reroute ending up back in Paro at the end of our trip. I had a week of free time and had originally planned on going to see Indian rhinoceroses in Assam province. Trying to formulate I new plan, I pulled up Google Maps and just started looking around to see what was near the western border crossing with India. Lo and behold, there was a national park nearby that also had rhinoceroses!

And that is how I ended up in Jaldapara National Park. This is definitely a local tourist destination for families. People drive in from nearby cities to get a taste of nature. The park itself has a couple of lodges, so I was able to stay right inside the front gate after negotiating what can only be described as Indian government technological bureaucracy. There were so many online hoops to jump through for no reason at all. Regardless, I made it to the park and the nice guy at the front desk helped me book a safari for that evening with another family.

me and Tenzin and our dosas, Indian peafowl, gaur

The safaris are touted as gypsy safaris, which was super confusing to me at first, especially because that’s a term that is now considered a racial slur of the Roma people. Although Romani are often associated with living nomadically in Europe, according to genetic research, they were most likely originally from Northern India and left about 1000 years ago. Their original caste name in Sanksrit was Doma, which referred to a people who made their living by singing and playing music. That made them dalits, low-caste untouchables without many rights and privileges afforded to members of higher castes. Although many of the laws segregating Indian society into castes have gone away, socially the caste system and discrimination caused by it is still very real.

With some more research, I found out that the term gypsy refers to the Maruti Suzuki Gypsy, which was a four-wheel drive vehicle that was very popular with the Indian army and police. They are no longer manufactured for the general public, but Suzuki still continues to make them for the army. I tried to find out why Suzuki named the cars gypsies, but there wasn’t much about their origin story online.

The cars can hold up to six people in the back and have a driver and guide in the front pointing out different flora and fauna along the way. I went on one tour at sunset and another one at sunrise, and ended up seeing a lot more during the evening tour. We did see one Indian rhinoceros from very far away. My phone has 30x zoom on it, or all I would’ve see was a blurry gray blob. I did manage to see an Indochinese roller, which reminded me so much of the lilac-breasted roller that I saw on safari in Tanzania and Zimbabwe. All of the rollers have such magnificent colored feathers. I think if you wanted to turn someone into a birder, you should get them watching rollers in the wild. Just stunning. I’m also a fan of the hornbill, with its fun calls and strange looking beak.

gypsy vehicle, Asian house gecko in my room (top middle), Indochinese roller (bottom middle), wild boar

Indian rhinoceros, planted fields, Oriental pied hornbill

Probably one of the most amazing moments was when we went to the Hollong Tourist Lodge. In front of this place, they’ve set up salt licks, which are basically giant blocks of salt that the animals come and lick. During the evening tour, a giant herd of elephants came to visit through the trees and we stayed for a long time just watching their slow and steady movements.

sambar, Asian elephants, Eastern cattle egrets

As part of the evening tour, young women of the Bodo (or Boro) tribes performed some traditional dances. The Boro people are traditionally from Meghalaya and Assam province and were originally part of a large number of different tribes that slowly merged into one larger identity. From my very brief research, the early Boro leaders and elites seemed to have created an existence for themselves outside of the Hindu caste system, by defining their caste as Boro on census reports. They still have control of the autonomous region of Bodoland in Assam to this day. Because of our elephant watching our group actually arrived a bit late, but I did get to capture this catchy music and dance performance that highlights their fishing traditions.