migrating from meizhou.

From Beijing to Shenzhen, a 3-hour flight.
From Shenzhen to Meizhou, a 6-hour bus ride.

As Hakka people, we have a tendency to migrate around, in a way, like nomads (or as my friend I had once said, yous a bunch of gypsies!), hence my family's move to Canada from India, and before that, the move to India from China. As a matter of fact, the Chinese characters for Hakka, 客家 [kèjiā], literally translates to "guest family", always being on the move is practically our innate nature!

So it's no surprise that every three years, like clockwork, my grandparents decide that Canada is too cold and take a getaway trip out to their native village of 梅州 [Méizhōu]. Last year I was fortunate enough to coincidentally be "in the neighbourhood"   -  and thus the chance of getting acquainted with another notch up in my family's history.

kaleidoscopic kolkata.

As we got to the city of Kolkata (previously Calcutta), also the last stop on our India trip, I felt a little blue... but also a little relieved - almost four weeks of taking malaria pills daily were starting to take its toll, and I did not feel good. But I trucked on, wanting to experience as much of my mother's hometown as I did my father's.

We had actually revolved our entire trip around the visit to Tangra, aka the Chinatown of India or, the pocket of Kolkata where you can find most of India's Chinese-descendents. Timing our trip was key, in order to be in the perfect place to celebrate Chinese New Year.

tentative trips.

While researching a bit before my trip to India, I stumbled upon this website. This blogger had the exact same ideas and mindset that I did when I watched this film, and thankfully for me, he's already done most of the work - so kudos to this guy!

I didn't so much watch this movie for its plot, but more for its cinematography, knowing that most of it was shot in India. The beautifully filmed backdrops really did the Lake & Palaces City of Udaipur and the Blue City of Jodhpur justice, making it all the while worth visiting.

Just a little warning: If you do watch this movie, please don't watch the trailer, it will definitely spoil it!

 

 

Some places I would love to go on my next trip (because no doubt, there will  be a next one!):

• Goa
• Pushkar
• Pondicherry
• Kerala
• Varanasi
• Mussoorie
• Darjeeling

Any takers?

torturing (tennis) trainers.

If you know me well enough, you'll know I have this thing with extensive travelling and white shoes, there's something about the challenge of keeping them white, all the while still "roughin' it"... and the sunny weather in India made it quite simple.

The rainy season in Vietnam however, that's a whole other story...

Delhi belly, number six.

Late-night cravings for my sweet tooth.

This was one of the moments that I had waited for all trip: Bengali sweets, named after the region where they originate. Reminiscent of childhood potlucks and family get-togethers, I still remember as a child how the shopkeeper at Mistaan Catering & Sweets would always offer free samples of jalebi and gulab jamun as I waited (oh-so patiently of course) for my father to receive his order of these precious, little delights. 

Ladoos, or what my brother used to get
on his tests according to my mother
(aka big fat eggs/zeros). 

Sweet, milky treats that always made me
question whether the silver was edible.

kindred of kanpur.

A blast from the past
for my pops, no doubt.

Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh. And my father's hometown.

Walking through this town, it was the first time I ever felt like we were really out-of-towners. Being in a smaller, less-touristy city, the occasional foreigner around was usually a sight to see. As soon as we had walked onto school grounds, we were surrounded by hushed whispers and stolen glances our way from little groups of students. These pre-teens even came up to us and asked if we knew Emmanuel - my guess, probably the token Chinese kid. It turned out that it was his father (an "uncle" of ours) who had been driving us around town and later, we'd actually be meeting this "Emmanuel" for dinner.

An old classmate of my father's third eldest brother, had become the new headmistress at their high school. Watching her and my aunt re-count through tales of old teachers and past classmates, it really made me wonder what the future would hold for me in 40 years... Will I still remember the names of principals, teachers and peers from past biology or French literature classes? Will I be able to walk through the old hallways and remember where my locker used to be?

My dad walked into what was now the Media/Audiovisual room and told us how it used to be the student council courtroom. Being the President during his time, he had a makeshift judging panel with his peers to use as they passed judgement on other students, handing out punishments for those who deserved them...now I know where he gets his look of "no mercy" from.

Methodist High School.

If there was such a thing as the 
West Beverly Hills High of the South West.

The ol' bread-winner
(also on Kanpur's Wikitravel page!)

Seeing the Chung Fa was by-far the highlight (mandarin pronounciation: zhōnghuá - 中华). This was where my father and his 5 siblings grew up, shot the shit, engaged in shenanigans, caused all sorts of ruckus, all the while living above a thriving Chinese restaurant. The owners who had taken-over bought the place next door as well, expanding the restaurant, taking away the makeshift second-floor and giving it a new facelift. As my aunt explained the old layout, I tried picturing my dad as a kid, in his school uniform, poking around the kitchen, gobbling down some fried rice my grandma made, or sitting out on the patio, enjoying an ice-cold lassi.

The Liu family's backyard.

Later, we had a visit with old neighbours of my father's - another family of 7 brothers and 3 sisters. As we sat in their garden drinking chai, I wondered what everyday life must have been like with this band of young Kanpurians 40 years ago - class-size play dates? Their own cricket team? Amateur Bollywood films? One brother, in fact, did actually try his luck in Mumbai, having an "uncle" in the movie industry to help get him started, but unfortunately being a star wasn't in the stars for him and he moved back to Kanpur.

I'm sure that afternoon wasn't enough to catch up on 40 years of lost time, but seeing everyone chatting and laughing, one thing was for sure - great friends will always be great friends, no matter how often you keep in touch. 

Delhi belly, number five.

Catering to the masses.

Oh, those infamous Golden Arches.

More of a novelty than anything, I was curious to see how the I'm lovin' it-marketing team had developed their products to this nation of strict diet-following Indian consumers. Lo and behold, the menu was mainly comprised of chicken, potato and paneer (a type of fried cheese) as the staples.

Suprisingly not found on the menu, I was really hoping to try my luck at a mutton burger. What didn't surprise me however was that these Golden Arches are somewhat scarcely found in this country (this was only my second viewing after almost 2 weeks of travelling). But considering that there are other way more delicious options out there in the food department, why bother getting an overpriced aloo tikki (a nicely spiced potato cutlet) if the only difference is a 'Mc' prefix on some fancy packaging?

The McAloo Tikki burger.

 The Maharaja Mac.

Somebody should get a hurt real bad.

diplomatic delhi.

It's a shame that the day after I left India was to be Republic Day (not to be confused with their Independance Day in August), marking the day India officially adopted its constitution. It would have been nice to see all of the celebrations that the capital had prepared, including a grand parade that showcases India's Air Force, Army and Navy. 

Delhi's India Gate.

Politically, Delhi has been the gateway to so many important events... including the rise and fall of one great man, Gandhi.

Affectionately dubbed the 'Father of the Nation', his simplistic lifestyle, and minimal dress goes to show that it's not the clothes you wear that make who you are. Outraged that the British were milling local Indian cotton into cloth, then re-selling it back to the Indians, Gandhi promoted the movement of wearing a simple khadi, spun by hand himself from a simple charkha (similar to the one seen on the flag of India). Khadi wasn't therefore just simply a cloth, but a symbol that boycotted foreign-goods and also one that represented self-sufficiency, an important roadblock to India's path to independence.

Not only did he sacrifice basic necessities such as clothing and food, but his own freedom as his fight for equitable rights had him incarcerated on several occasions. His life's mission was to better the lives of everyone, especially those of India's lowest classes. His philosophy will always be an inspiration for peace and nonviolence - something that these days, the world needs a little more of.

The Rajghat, the site
of Gandhi's cremation.

Saffron for courage & sacrifice. 
White for truth & peace.
Green for faith & chivalry.

His life was his message.

Delhi belly, number four.

I have to admit when I was a kid, I used to call it Goofy, thinking it was for some strange reason named after a beloved Disney character. But little did I know, it was only my young untrained ears that were picking up my parents' Indian pronounciation of the word, taking the "k" sound and turning into a soft "g".

Kulfi is to India,
as gelato is to Italy.

A cool icy treat, it usually comes in popsicle-form on a stick, but occassionally you'll find it in bowl-form as well. Although the flavours are endless, I would recommend the traditional pistachio or mango flavours for any first-timer. It also comes in the original malai kulfi, malai meaning cream, but it's not as exciting once you've had the others. 

I know this is the real deal, but I still
think J's mom makes it way better.

(not so) average agra.

If you go to India, the must-see is the Taj Mahal... or so they say.

What many visitors overlook is Agra's Red Fort, the grandiose fortress of red sandstone that once imprisonned Shah Jehan, the man who commissioned the construction of the Taj Mahal, in memory of his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal.

The story goes that Mumtaz died during childbirth in 1631, leaving Shah Jehan so heart-broken his hair turned grey virtually overnight. Completely grief-striken, he wanted to preserve her memory in what can be only worthy of the love of his life. Made with materials from all over Asia, it took more than 20 years to complete.

There is a myth that Shah Jehan wanted to create a black replica, across the river for his own tomb. But a little after the Taj Mahal was completed, his son, Aurangzeb, overthrew his father and put him under house arrest in the Agra Fort. The Shah Burj ironically had the most magnificent view of his loving wife's final resting spot. For years he sat, but only through a window, gazing at his immaculate creation.

Talk about a bittersweet ending, no?

The Muthamman Burj or Shah Burj.

Chillin' like villains,
on the Taj Mahal.

Spotted: an Indian-born Chinese
shutterbug.