Today at the tea vendor Shiva asked if I wanted some Indian tea. Absolutely! This was going to be my first experience with chai tea here. Side note: chai actually just means tea, masala chai is what the mixed spices tea is called. So it's cool, my life was just a lie but thankfully we're all enlightened now. Shiva brought me over the little cup to my great excitement. The top appeared to have a good layer of foam which, if there's one thing I love in this world, it's the foam off the top of a cappuccino. This looked similar, so naturally, my excitement was doubled.
As I took the first sip of the delicious foam and it reached my mouth, I realized that the foam was in fact curdled milk. What. Is. Happening. Every student who has ever experienced independent dorm living knows what curdled milk equals and that is spoiled rotten milk. After my brain took a moment to freak out and panic it came to the realization that this milk was not spoiled, just curdled. After some light Internet sleuthing later in the day, I learned that the milk curdles because the tea is too hot. The actual tea portion of the masala chai was also surprising. In America chai is quite spicy but in comparison this was rather tame. After a few sips of the tea however, my valiant venture into the unknown was rewarded by the universe. Shiva asked me if I wanted a sweet dough thing. Oh great glorious day, finally a diabetic treat. The sweet bun was essentially like the dosa, but instead of vegetables there was sugar. It was pleasantly sweet, but not quite as sweet as I had hoped. My quest for a diabetic coma continues.
The tea vendor and the SBS are becoming pretty familiar. Today he approached the car to ask me how I liked everything. Head bobble, smile, "good, good" bobble, smile. The tea vendor is happy and obviously we are now life long friends. Tomorrow I should probably learn his name.
The Indian students find me frequently amusing. This amusement often stems from my expressed desire to touch any and all animals in the vicinity. Today I was bound and determined to pet a cow. The Indians watched me in wide eyed amazement as I approached the cow with my hand out and began a conversation with it. The cow side eyed me and continued to munch on some garbage as Shiva told me that the cows don't really care to be petted. I conceded defeat and went on with my birdwatching. There are also a lot of stray dogs or as the SBS calls them "street dogs". They have a range of appearances but for the most part they're all adorable mutts and I want to pet all of them. I'm constantly trying to get them to come be my friends but the Indians will just have none of it. We've also started to see baby birds and not surprisingly my excitement is seldom contained. I go on and on about how "cute" they are. Of all the words I've tried to formerly teach the SBS, the only word that seems to have made an impact is "cute".
The birdwatching today was painfully slow, maybe because the days have been getting hotter. As we left after our morning count Shyam and Shiva explained to me that the name of the place we were in was Kudamurutti. Named for the river that feeds into the wetland, the word means rotating pot or more likely rolling pot. The story goes that every time the river would flood, the pots that the women used for collecting water would roll down the steam and into the wetland that we survey. It makes it even sadder for me to know that this place has so much history and beauty and is still being destroyed.
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