List of Firsts

I know I promised in January that I wouldn’t make endless lists of things on the blog but this has been a month of firsts (and the month’s not over yet, baby) so it’s quite unprecedented, as first times always are. These are primarily gustatory but may wander over to other areas of life.
First time I eat spicy dal curry on a beach, time 3 pm, temperature 100 degrees, humidity somewhere above 60%. It never even occurred to me that palak paneer or tarka dal could be beach food; all these years taking salads, cold couscous and fruit and sandwiches to the beach! What a fool I was!
First time I eat corn on the cob in India, also on the beach. No butter rub but even better for the blazing heat: the cob has lime juice squeezed all over it and a heavy sprinkling of masala chili and black salt. For the uninitiated, it’s an understatement to say that the acid of lemon/lime bring out the burn of chili powder. If you’ve never experienced this, it makes you sweat instantly (as well as making bacteria instantly die), and since it was searingly hot out and the corn had just been pulled off the fire and could hardly be held, the temperature plus the chili meant streams of sweat poured down my back like the Ganges in the first big melt of spring. My lips were the burnt-est part of it all, swollen and red from all that chili and lime by the time I gave up and gave the cob to the menacing and encroaching bull with horns who had decided he was finishing my corn.
First time I drank the fresh-squeezed sugar cane juice they press through those archaic machines that look like the printing press my mother has in the family room. This is what the guidebooks always warn you never to drink since the cups are reused and they could add water. Blah blah blah. Yeah, they did pour the juice over ice (and I know where they get the ice, who cuts it on the plastic tarp floor with bare feet and the dirty sharp killer knife in a shack with 8 people, because I saw huge chunks being cut and sold in a market in Calcutta). Four stalks of sugar cane equals four full cups of juice for thirsty people. No one ever mentioned the part that they squeeze lime juice in and add fresh ginger to your liking. I thought it was great, just sweet enough (not as sweet as soda) and fresh and green tasting. I just discovered a new use for that printing press when I get home.
First time I ever eat a whole mango on the beach. Some lady came over with 1000 fruits balanced on her head like Carmen Miranda and I couldn’t resist the mango for my list of firsts (of course I’ve eaten mango before but never on the beach). Yeah, she overcharged me but she was the one holding the knife (to cut the fruit).
First time I ever get my fruit salted. It was a fruit salad selection of the usual, watermelon, cantaloupe, orange, etc and I ate it how the Indians like it, with black salt. Hmmm, I’ll stick to my way. I like my fruit with nothing on it, not even ice cream.
First guava of the season. Divine! I may have to revise my list of favorite fruits; I think real fresh guava just beat out jackfruit and mango, so we’ve got a new number one. The new order of favorites is 1.) guava 2.) watermelon (necessary for rehydration in a place with almost no coconuts/very expensive coconuts) 3.) papaya (amazingly, this never made the list before and never appealed to me in Mysore or other parts of the world. Here, it’s incredible!)
First time I drink that nasty salty mountain tea, this time Kashmiri (also famous in Tibet and god knows where else!). Who ever thought of ruining a nice cuppa black tea with milk by adding wretched salt so that instead of being pleasant, it makes you want to gag? I’m sorry but this is the only thing on my list I hope never to repeat. That’s just disgusting and makes you thirstier than you were to start. What’s up with these mountain people? I’m not game. If that’s the taste of the Himalayas, no wonder the Tibetan monks come running fast and ask for refugee status in India. I would too.
First time I do a handstand. For real. In my life. First time my homework is “go home and do handstands in the afternoon to build strength”. (!!)
First time a teacher compliments some (any, please!) aspect of my yoga practice this year. I’ve been told the biggest compliment to my yoga practice is that Marci hasn’t tied me up in belts and propped up blocks and strapped me into one of her torture devices.
First time I have a croissant this year, spread with bitter orange marmalade and dipped in my cappuccino, thank you very much. You don’t think this is special, but you would if you’d been living in India for 4 months.
First time I get a new yoga pose since last September. Sigh. As always, life was easier without it.
First time I look with honest-to-god real fear into the yoga pose ahead of me, and first time Rolf (figuratively) holds my hand to help me over the dark parts.
First time I live in a place with dirt paths as roads. First time I live in a place with no paved roads. As a city girl, I think I can’t reiterate this enough.
First time I wear French lingerie out in public and ironically, it would be an Indian public. I don’t even take such liberties in liberal Europe or “free”-as-could-be US of A. But it’s also not so insanely hot anywhere else, and if the Indian ladies wear tank tops, I’ve got to one-up them somehow. Did I mention it’s fricking hot here? I do recall having worn this black slip as a skirt when I’d go to summer parties in Madrid when I was 21 but I’d never donned the Etam blue embroidered loungewear top beyond the doors of my own house (I remember even scandalizing a Wisconsinite roommate once by wearing it in my own living room). I finally understand why these summer months are low season and cheaper in Goa – because it’s so fricking hot, you’d have to pay most people to come here. Thank god I brought this stuff to sleep in, but of course it’s too hot at night to sleep in anything, and even the mosquito netting far overhead cuts off any drafts of fresh air.
First time I sweat more at night in my birthday suit than most people would in a Bikram yoga class.