Death and All His (Mexican) Friends!

Celebrating death in myriad ways, with no excuses made for its intimacy with life, is Mexico’s idea of a good time

By Raul Dias

There is a heartbreakingly beautiful saying in Mexico that goes something like this… “you never really die until your name is spoken for the last time”. 

This is perhaps why the concept of death in Mexican culture is one that is so unique and unlike any other in the world. As I travelled around this wonderfully ‘alive’ country a few years ago, I discovered that as much as they mourn death, Mexicans also celebrate it with joy and unbridled mirth. Bordering on a defiant nonchalance, one might even say. But not quite.

And there is no day more poignant than today’s North American holiday of Halloween to put the Mexican attitude towards death into perspective. Now, while the average American approaches death with fear, turning the dead into monsters—worthy, only of being paraded around as fancy-dressed, macabre creatures as they go ‘trick-or-treating’ about their neighbourhood—the Mexican prefers a riotous co-existence. All this, along a colourful path of both least resistance and total abandonment!   

Living Death

It is no great surprise then that one of Mexico’s most important festivals celebrates not life, but death with the greatest of abandon. Día de Muertos—which takes place on the second day of November each year all over Mexico—is a fusion of the Catholic feast of All Souls’ Day with the day of the dead of the pre-Hispanic Tarasco people of Michoacán. It is believed that the dead return to their earthly homes for one day. Quite like in the animated movie Coco (2017), the underlying philosophy here is that death is not a full stop put at the end of a life, but a continuation of it in a parallel dimension.

I was lucky enough to witness one such Día de Muertos in Mexico City that changed the way I looked at death forever. As much as two days before the festival, Mexicans visit the graves of deceased family members, adorning them with brightly coloured paper decorations and marigold flowers known locally as cempasúchil. The brightness of which, they believe, evokes the sun. Small gifts called ofrendas in the form of glittery, sugared skulls and dancing skeletons called calaveras are left behind at the graves by the relatives. This, after they spend at least 24 hours in the cemetery, communing with the dead in a sort of hybrid tailgate party-meets-picnic. Highlighted by plenty of eating, drinking and playing of music.   

Double, double toil and trouble

“Que buscabas?” was a question hurled at me by almost every smiling shopkeeper I encountered. “What are you looking for?” they asked. I found myself at the Mercado de Sonora on a rather chilly Autumn afternoon. Dedicated solely to witchcraft, potions, and other death rituals, this market located just southeast of Mexico City’s main center—in a neighbourhood known as Merced Balbuena—truly is the place to go to to get your freak on. 

To the average José, it might appear to be a normal place. Food stalls selling everything from tripe tacos to luridly-coloured fruit drinks called aguas frescas decanted into large glass containers are all lined up in neat isles. Letting my olfactory senses take lead, I sauntered down to the back. Into an area of the mercado that is not for the faint of heart.

Rows of shops peddling a virtual menagerie of dried up, dead animals and reptiles, from snakes to armadillos, come into sight. Tiny vials of love potions to more sinister ones of the ‘ruin-your-enemy’ kind were thrust under my reluctant nose for perusal. Soon I was accosted by a rather scary-looking woman and offered a quickie limpia con hueve. A harmless kind of spiritual cleanse, I was told that involves rubbing a fertilised chicken’s egg all over the ‘cleansee’s’ body, before it is smashed onto the floor to disperse off the bad vibes. I quickly skulked away into the incoming human traffic, profusely apologising in my terrible Spanish.

I had been warned that this might happen and to steer clear of it. The mercado is full of quacks and imposters, I was told by my friend Paz. A Mexico City local, Paz claims to have once been tricked into a similar limpia by a self-proclaimed witch, who turned out to be the market’s cleaning lady. 

Saints and sinners

I soon learned that on the first day of every month, thousands of people flock to an altar in a ramshackle part of Mexico City to honour a ‘saint’. One that the country’s all-controlling Catholic Church vehemently denounces. But this denouncement did not surprise me as I joined the thronging devotees on a morning that happened to be the first of November. The number one attraction of the city’s rather rough Barrio Tepito neighbourhood is the shrine dedicated to the scythe-brandishing skeletal figure of Santa Muerte (Saint Death), always garbed in a white sequined wedding gown.

Once again, blending pre-Hispanic rituals with that of Catholicism, Santa Muerte is said to be an avatar of Mictlantecuhtli, the ancient Mexican God of Death. Over the years, this dreaded figure has come to be associated with drug runners and gang members who look upon her as their de facto patron saint. Leaving her candles and bottles of tequila as part of their obeisance is the norm.

Getting into the ‘spirit’ of things truly seems to be a Mexican way of life!

TRAVEL LOG

Getting There 

As there are no direct flights linking India with Mexico, one can get into Mexico City via connecting flights from most major US airports. Travel within Mexico City is extremely easy with plenty of transport options including taxis, public buses and the super-efficient and cheap metro train system. Indians require a visa to visit the country that can be procured from the Mexican Embassy in New Delhi. However, the visa requirement is waived off for those in possession of a valid multiple entry US visa.   

Stay

In-keeping with a city of its mammoth size, Mexico City has every sort of accommodation option to suit all tastes and budgets. Located in the heart of the city in the Centro neighbourhood around Zócalo plaza, Downtown Mexico (www.downtownmexico.com) has a boutique hotel vibe with reasonable room rates, starting at Rs 2,100 for a double room without breakfast. Set in a modern building that is a short walk away from the Cuauhtémoc metro station, Gran Hotel Amazonas (www.hotelamazonas.com.mx) offers rooms starting as low as Rs 1,600 for a double without breakfast.

Tip

* If you are still craving some more chills and thrills, then head to the super-creepy floating Isla del las Muñecas doll island in the canal-infested Mexico City suburb of Xochimilco. Here you will encounter garlands of dolls festooned from almost every gnarly tree’s branch as well as the island’s spooky doll museum. 

(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 31st  October 2020 issue of The Hindu Business Line newspaper's BLink section on page 18 https://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/cover/mexicos-day-of-the-dead/article32978112.ece)

Notes from Baijnath

 

By Raul Dias

For a handful of places across India, the celebration of good versus evil, that today’s Dussehra festival espouses, is not as definitively black or white as most would like it to be. But then, nor is the mythology that birthed it and thousands of other festivals—both religious and otherwise—not just in India, but around the world as well. Myriad interpretations abound, each shining light on hidden facets.

Just ask the inhabitants of the sleepy little town of Baijnath in the Northern Indian state of Himachal Pradesh! While this year’s Dussehra festivities might be muted ones across the country due to the pandemic, in Baijnath, Dussehra is an annual no-show.

Unsung hero or wrathful foe?

Perched at an altitude of 4,311 feet on the Himalayan Dhauladhar mountain range, Baijnath is one of those rare places in India where neither Dussehra has ever been celebrated, nor the ensuing drama of the Ramleela ever played out. All this, thanks to an unlikeliest protagonist at the very vortex of it all—Ravana. 

Legend has it that the ‘demon king of Lanka’ was an ardent devotee of Lord Shiva and prayed to him deep in the Himalayas seeking immortality. In return for which Ravana chopped off his own ten heads at the altar. So impressed was Lord Shiva with this act of devotion that he is said to have restored the heads. Only this time, six of the heads for the six Puranas and four for the four Vedas. 

The 12th century Baijnath rock temple constructed in the Nagara style of architecture and the surrounding town of the same name were built upon this myth. And to this day, in honour of Ravana’s dedication to Lord Shiva, neither is Ravana’s effigy burnt by the residents, nor do they buy sweets or light any fireworks. Interestingly, the town is also totally devoid of jewellery shops. This is apparently to mourn Lord Hanuman’s torching of Ravana’s Lanka which was said to be made of gold. 

However, according to some, it is not entirely the respect for Ravana and his devotion to Lord Shiva, but also that all-consuming emotion of fear that prevents any Dussehra celebrations from taking place in Baijnath. As in most small towns across India, myths of destructive wrath and punishment abound here too. Everything from decades of bad luck to more ominous ones in the form of an unnatural death to those who take part in any Dussehra festivities, keep the Baijnath townsfolk away, come Dussehra night.   

Dussehra dodgers

Baijnath, however, is not alone in its shunning of Dussehra festivities. There are other Ravana-sympatico places in India where the shine of Dussehra is a tad diminished, if not fully taken off. While the people of Mandsaur in Madhya Pradesh refer to Ravana as their ‘son-in-law’ as they believe that their town is the paternal home of his wife, Mandodari, Bisrakh in Uttar Pradesh claims him as its own. According to local belief, Ravana, the son of a sage named Vishrava and Kaikeshi, a Daitya princess was born in Bisrakh.

As it is believed that Mandore in Rajasthan is where Ravana married Mandodari, on the day of Dussehra, priests of the local Ravan Ki Chanwari temple perform the shraadh ceremony for his soul. In Maharashtra’s Gadchiroli District, the village of Paraswadi is nothing but a glorified hamlet, home to a handful of people from the Gond tribe. They call themselves Ravanwashis or descendants of Ravana, resolutely refusing to be identified as Hindus. 

Perhaps there is no better place than one actually named after Ravana to seek an answer to the million dollar “was he good or evil?” question. Ravangram in Madhya Pradesh is a village that has a legion of devotees who actually worship a 10-feet-long reclining statue of Ravana in an ancient temple constructed by a sect called the Kanyakubja Brahmins that Ravana was said to be a member of.

Putting it all into perspective, one cannot help but ponder on a rather controversial quote often attributed to Winston Churchill. Is history truly written by the victors?                      

(This column first appeared in the 25th October 2020 issue of The Hindu newspaper's Sunday Magazine section on page 7 https://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/travel/notes-from-baijnath/article32931241.ece)

Hotel Review: The Ritz-Carlton Bahrain, Manama In Bahrain

This article was first published online on 12th October 2020 in Luxury Lifestyle Magazine, UK https://www.luxurylifestylemag.co.uk/travel/hotel-review-the-ritz-carlton-bahrain-manama-in-bahrain/

Puns on a Platter!

From the downright outrageous to the uproariously funny, weirdly named dishes offer an interesting insight into the culinary ethos of several countries around the world.

By Raul Dias

Growing up part Anglo-Indian on my Mum’s side, my initiation into the realm of oddly named dishes was complete the moment I, a preternaturally ravenous two-year-old, had had my first helping of pish-pash. Simply put, the rather onomatopoeic dish is an Anglo rite of passage every toddler must endure. Made with soft rice and some form of protein (mostly chicken), pish-pash as a dish was first spoken of by English writer Augustus Prinsep in the mid-19th century where he called it “a slop of rice-soup with small pieces of meat in it, much used in the Anglo-Indian nursery.”

Over the years, I would encounter more funnily named Anglo-Indian culinary ‘jewels’ like the meat kofta curry doppelganger with a very rude name of ball curry. Also known as the even ruder “spinster’s delight curry”, the Sunday special would always be enjoyed with its supporting acts that took the form of yellow rice and the scary-sounding (but comfortingly mild) devil chutney. 

Egg banjo, on the other hand is an Anglo snack that was invented by the military during WWII and sees a sunny-side-up fried egg sandwiched between two slices of bread, all doused in the quintessentially British brown sauce. Though the etymology of ‘banjo’ in its name remains a mystery, the sandwich still lives on here in India in the form of the slightly tweaked (both in name and composition) ‘egg benjo’—an insanely popular snack made famous by Indore’s nightly food paradise of Sarafa Bazar. Here, the runny egg is substituted with a more practical folded masala omelette, the sliced bread with a toasted burger bun and brown sauce with tomato ketchup. 

Blighty bites

As a university student in the UK of the mid-2000s, as I navigated my way around various college and dorm cafeterias, I was hit in the face with even more inappropriately named British dishes. Take spotted dick, for instance. 

Now, before images of some virulent, male appendage-related medical condition begin to swirl in your mind, let me assure you of the name’s rather benign innocuity. This traditional British pudding (as desserts are referred to there) is made with flour, suet (a kind of animal lard), caster sugar, lemon zest and dried currants or raisins making up the ‘spotted’ component. The ‘dick’ part being an old English term for a pudding. Served warm with a thin custard sauce, this steamed pudding has been a mainstay across Britain for centuries. 

I am told that the wildly popular Stinking Bishop cheese from Dymock in South West England’s Gloucestershire county apparently gets its nausea-evoking name for the juice of the Stinking Bishop Pear that it is immersed in for its ripening process. Not for its equally putrid odour that is said to be a cross between that of a wet dog and old socks.

Another such bizarrely named specimen is the rather tasty baked savoury dish called toad-in-the-hole. Eaten as part of a light dinner that the Brits call “tea”, the easy-to-prepare dish is a bunch of fried pork sausages (or to use the more colloquial term—bangers) cooked in what is essentially a buttery Yorkshire pudding. But in America, the unfortunately named dish refers to an egg cooked in the hole cut out of a piece of white, sliced bread. 

Servings across the pond

Speaking of America, the land of the free too has its own posse of quirkily named dishes. Some like the molten cheese-exploding burger called the juicy Lucy and the soppy, meat sauce laden sandwich named sloppy Joe paying homage to particularly messy individuals! While others are in honour of “sleepy critters” like the 1970s cocktail party classic of pigs in a blanket that sees tiny, cocktail pork sausages wrapped in flaky pastry and then baked.

Devils on horseback is another iconic 70s party snack where pitted, dried prunes are wrapped in bacon strips and then baked. Interestingly, this snack has evolved from another strangely named turn-of-the-century one called angels on horseback, where freshly shucked oysters stood instead of the prunes.

Deep fried oysters also find a place for themselves in the New Orleans po’ boy sandwich ensconced within the crusty confines of a sliced mini French baguette. A shortened version of the original ‘poor boy sandwich’, the po’ boy was named after the conductors of the local streetcar company, who in 1929, were given the sandwiches free of charge for their daily lunch by a local restaurant during their four-month long strike for better wages.

South of the US in the Caribbean twin island nation of Trinidad & Tobago, a strangely named iteration of our very own Malabar parotta has been the number one snack for over a century. The buss up shut which is the local vernacular for “busted up shirt” is a flaky paratha that is smashed up by the cook using their hands after frying on a griddle. Thus, leaving the flatbread to resemble a torn-up shirt, pieces of which are dunked into spicy chickpea and potato curry and eaten with Trini-style mango achaar.    

Found in translation

Adidas. Helmet. Walkman. Any guesses as to what this trio could possibly mean in the context of food? Well, in the Philippines they are all nicknames given to popular street food snacks, I discovered on a recent trip to the archipelago nation. So, while Adidas is what barbequed chicken feet are called, helmet is the code word for roasted chicken head and walkman is bite sized bits of grilled pig ears.

Still in the Philippines, Bicol express is a spicy stew made with pork, shrimp paste and coconut milk. It is named in honour of the passenger train service of the same name that plies between the capital Manila and the Bicol region that is well-known for its spicy cuisine.

Imam bayildi, as translated onto the English menu cards in restaurants across Turkey reads “the imam fainted” and is an old Ottoman heirloom dish. Here, whole eggplants are stuffed with a mixture of onions, garlic and tomatoes and simmered in olive oil before being served with rice and a dollop of yogurt. It is said to have got its name when an imam who was so overcome by pleasure after eating the dish, fainted.  

Or maybe, the imam had just gotten a whiff of the stinking bishop…?                 

------

Toad-in-the-Hole

INGREDIENTS:

180 gm all-purpose flour

450 gm pork sausages (can be substituted with chicken sausages)

½ tsp salt

Pinch of freshly ground black pepper

3 eggs, beaten

350 ml milk

2 tbsp melted butter

1 tbsp vegetable oil 

METHOD:

1. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour with the salt and a pinch of pepper. Make a well in the center of the flour. Pour in the eggs, milk, and melted butter into the well and whisk into the flour until smooth. Cover and let the batter stand for 30 minutes. 

2. Grease the bottom and sides of a medium-sized, rectangular baking dish with a little vegetable oil. Preheat the oven to 220°C and place the empty dish in it. 

3. Meanwhile, in a frying pan heat remaining oil on medium flame and fry the sausages till golden brown. 

4. Put the sausages in the hot baking dish and pour the batter over the sausages and bake for about 20-30 minutes or until the batter is risen and golden.

5. Cut in wedges and serve warm alongside caramelised onions, brown sauce and buttery mashed potatoes.

(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 10th October 2020 issue of The Hindu Business Line newspaper's BLink section on page 19 https://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/takeaway/foods-with-bizarre-names/article32804928.ece)

Behind The Brand: Interview With Abdulla Ajmal, Deputy C.O.O. Of Ajmal Perfumes

 

This article. was first published online on 26th September 2020 in Luxury Lifestyle Magazine, UK https://www.luxurylifestylemag.co.uk/style-and-beauty/behind-the-brand-interview-with-abdulla-ajmal-deputy-c-o-o-of-ajmal-perfumes/

Hotel Review: Badrutt’s Palace Hotel In St. Moritz, Switzerland

 

This article was first published online on 18th September 2020 in Luxury Lifestyle Magazine, UK https://www.luxurylifestylemag.co.uk/travel/hotel-review-badrutts-palace-hotel-in-st-moritz-switzerland/)

Liechtenstein, where!?

A day spent traipsing around Vaduz, the tiny capital of one of the least visited countries in the world—the Alpine microstate of Liechtenstein—is full of interesting little curiosities and serendipitous discoveries 

By Raul Dias

You are not alone if you are one of those people for whom the Principality of Liechtenstein seems like a made-up country in soppy, made-for-TV Hallmark movies with twee names like Aldovia, Belgravia, Genovia, etc. The kind where wide-eyed American girls fall in love with playboy princes of obscure European micro kingdoms. Places where everybody speaks perfect English in clipped British accents that would put the Queen of England’s to shame. And yes, while Liechtenstein does have its very own prince in the form of Hans-Adam II, the septuagenarian grandfather is far from a playboy and speaks in heavy Alemannic German-accented English.

But despite being one of the least visited countries in the world, the Alpine microstate does have more than a few curiosities that draw in the odd traveller every now and then. Not only is it Europe’s fourth smallest country (and the world’s sixth), but sandwiched between Switzerland and Austria, Liechtenstein is also one of the world’s only two double landlocked countries, with the other being Uzbekistan. Oh, and the country’s only billionaire is worth half the country’s GDP!

My tryst with Liechtenstein, however, was not born out of curiosity. More, necessity. Finding myself twiddling thumbs at the sterile, boring Zurich airport thanks to a 12-hour delay in a flight that was supposed to get me to sunny Lisbon, I paid heed to the advice of the kind lady manning the airport’s information kiosk. Looking at my Swiss rail pass, she suggested I hop into nearby Liechtenstein to kill time. For free. 

My rather expensive eight-day rail pass, she let me know, would not just get me into Vaduz, the tiny capital of Liechtenstein, but once there, I could even use the services of the local buses thanks to its validity there too. And so, with my big suitcase already checked in, all I had to do was strap on my day pack and get ready to tick another country, however obscure, off my list.

Size Matters 

With Sargans being the last railhead on the Swiss side, I soon hopped onto a Vaduz-bound bus that deposited me at the south end of Stadtle. This pedestrian-only ‘Golden Mile’ of Vaduz starts right in front of the grand National Museum building. But the very first structure that caught my attention and fancy was the rather modern and contemporary looking blond wood-clad Parliament Building that lies at the heart of the Peter-Kaiser-Platz square, just a stone’s throw from the Government Building. Perfectly tiny and in-keeping with the Lilliputian dimensions of Vaduz, the Parliament Building turned out to be a surprise for me when I found out from the Liechtenstein Centre for tourism that it was only in 2008 that this building, designed by the Munich-based architect Hansjörg Göritz, was inaugurated.

Speaking of size, Liechtenstein is so small that not only can the entire country be walked in six hours’ time from north to south (under two hours, east to west), but here the ‘milestones’ don’t show you the distance in miles or kilometers, but in the time that it would take you to walk from one place to another. In fact, right up to June 2020, Airbnb made it possible to rent the entire country of Liechtenstein for around $70,000 a night. I kid you not!

Of mains and sides

As it was almost lunch time, I sauntered into the rather Mediterranean-looking Torkel restaurant. It is situated in the princely vineyard called Herawingert, which has been in the possession of the Liechtenstein Royal Family since 1712. The medieval building, which originally served as a winemaking facility for the princely grapes, was converted into a restaurant in the 1960s and its interior is dominated by Europe’s largest wooden wine press.

My vegetarian main of a pasta-like cheese dish served with apple sauce, called käsknöpfle mit apfelmus came to my table with a side of some more trivia. All thanks to my Austrian server who told me that like himself, most of Liechtenstein’s work force comes in daily from neighbouring Austria and Switzerland. 

But that is not the only Swiss invasion to happen in a military force-bereft Liechtenstein, I soon learn. Apparently, Switzerland has managed to accidentally ‘invade’ Liechtenstein three times over the last three decades. And on two occasions, Liechtenstein want not even aware of what had happened! 

I paired my lunch with a crisp Chardonnay made from grapes grown at the rose pink painted Hofkellerei winery located on the same property as the restaurant and owned by Liechtenstein’s Prince Hans-Adam II. I was also told that the enterprising prince is the owner of the Texas-based GMO firm RiceTech that’s responsible for producing hybrid rice varieties like Texmati, which was in the news a few years ago for being the copycat patented version of our very own Indian Basmati.

Castle in the sky

But there is more to the Liechtenstein-India connection. Just like our Independence Day, Liechtenstein celebrates its National Day every year on the 15th of August. It is on this day that the Prince throws open the grand and almost fairytale-esque Vaduz Castle to all his citizens and guests whom he invites for a beer and pretzel garden party. Constructed as a fortress as early as the 12th century, before living quarters were added in 1287, it was only in 1939 that the then Prince moved in with his family and adopted Vaduz Castle as his official residence. 

Perched 120 meters high up on a misty hill and overlooking the entire city, the castle is quite a feat to get to. Trudging up the winding, hilly pathway, may have been a challenge, but the vista from the halfway Kanzeli viewpoint of both the city below and the castle above was enough to keep me at it. 

Although one is not allowed to enter the castle, the chatty groundskeeper I encountered did let me walk about its perimeter, sending me on my way with one last nugget of quirky Liechtensteiner trivia. Flashing me a bright, white smile he lets me know that his beloved Liechtenstein is the world’s number one manufacturer of false teeth. I will let you chew on that one…    

TRAVEL LOG

Getting There

As there is no airport in Vaduz (or in all of Liechtenstein for that matter!) one needs to fly in to Zurich, Switzerland and then take a one hour-long train ride from Zurich to the Swiss border town of Sargans and then a 40-minute bus ride from Sargans to Vaduz. There are direct flights from India to Zurich on Swiss Airlines. All of Vaduz is best enjoyed on foot, although there is a very efficient bus service in the city. Indian passport holders need a Schengen visa to enter Switzerland, and thus, by default, Liechtenstein. 

Stay

Tough your best bet is to stay in Zurich and take a day trip to Vaduz, there are a few, if a tad pricey, Swiss-style auberges and hotels to spend the night at if you so choose to stay in Vaduz. The butter-yellow painted Hotel Vaduzerhof offers a value-for-money stay (Rs 13,900 for two with breakfast, vaduzerhof.net) a mere 100 meters from Vaduz’s compact city center. Equally popular is Landhaus am Giessen (Rs 14,612 for two with breakfast, giessen.li), a cosy two-star hotel with room balconies overflowing with potted plants and flowers. 

Tip

* Liechtenstein is a great place to go hiking. One of the most popular hikes is the 12km “Fürstin Gina Weg” (Princess Gina Trail) from where one can enjoy a panoramic view of the Alps of Liechtenstein and Austria beyond.

(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 12th September 2020 issue of The Hindu Business Line newspaper's BLink section on page 20 https://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/takeaway/the-european-microstate-of-liechtenstein-is-the-sixth-smallest-country-of-the-world/article32576662.ece)