Root of all Evil

My internet connection’s been wonky since last Friday. After numerous exausting phone calls to the “service” centre, they’ve finally send someone down to check on the problem today.

Apparently, the internet line was disrupted by… I swear I am not making this up…. a fallen coconut tree.

I don’t know what I can say, except…

Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam!!

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Straight to the Guts

I’ve been putting a lot of unknown substance in my mouth, and last time I check, it is not particularly healthy to be doing this for long term. (any period of time exceeding 1 day)

In general, I’ve been enjoying my food here, so I’ve been eating pretty big portions of what they’ve been serving me. So far, most of the locals had been asking me was if I was used to the food here.  Apparently this is generally a big problem with foreigners, and even some of the locals who comes from other parts of the country. They’re just not accustomed to the food. Some of my class mates are already suffering from bad tummy upsets and some would just refuse to eat beyond what is necessary to sustain them for the day (I’ve seen 1 guy eat 2 pieces of bread and an omelet for the entire day).

Thankfully, I’ve been ok…So Far. In fact, for the first few days here I seemed to be suffering from a bit of constipation, something that is extremely peculiar as I’ve almost never suffered from constipation thus far in my LIFE. I mean I am almost a non veg eater back home and here I am ingesting those disgusting green thing on an almost unhealthily regular basis. If anyone needs proof that eating vegetables are bad for health. This is it! 

Anyway, my philosophy here is that I’ll try anything they serve me, at least once (which is easy, because besides the unavoidable vegetables, only one of the evil trio of food <liver, bitter gourd, ladies’ fingers> is served here). The servers and chefs seem particularly touched (and I think a bit impressed) that a Chinese man is here devouring their cuisines and demanding for second and third helping. My server will almost always serve me exclusively and then just stand at the side with a weird look (I’ll label it as “wonder” but that’s just me) on their faces. (I swear one of the chefs peeked through the kitchen door at me from time to time) 

Having said that, I would like to at least know what evil I have been pouring down my throat. I gave up trying after the first few days. Mind, it’s not that they are not willing to tell me, in fact my server will grin happily and gladly volunteer the name of the dish, how they prepare it and what they put into it, but a typical conversation between me and them goes like this… 

Me       :           MMMmmmm… this is really nice. What’s the name of the dish? 

Server  :           Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam, Sir. 

Me       :           Ahhhh…. But it’s a lot of gravy. What do you put in it? 

Server:             *Grinning*
We put Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam and Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam and Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam in it. Then we Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam it in Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam and Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam the Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam from the Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam of the Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam doing the Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam on it.
 

Me:                  Ahhh…. Good, good… So is it mutton?  Chicken? *spastically trying to do a chicken flap* Fish? *putting both palms together and move it from side to side 

Server:             *shaking his head from side to side as only they can*                        
                           Yes Sir
 

Me:                  Fish? 

Server:             *shaking his head from side to side as only they can* 

Me:                  Fish! 

Server:             *shaking his head from side to side as only they can* 

Me:                  Chicken? 

Server              *shaking his head from side to side as only they can*                       
                         
Yes Sir 

Me:                  Riiiggght…. Thank you so much. So if I wanna order this from the restaurants, what do I say? 

Server:             *shaking his head from side to side as only they can*                       
                         
* rolling eyes, giving me the “I’ve already told you this a million times before already” look* 

Me:                  Oh Yeah! Pattyyama *mumble mumble mumble* 

Because of all these, I’ve decided to stop asking and thankfully eat whatever they put in front of me. They’ve started liking the Idiot Chinese Man again because he is starting to eat with his hands, something they Strongly Approve of. The chefs started coming out to look at me eat again. Now, if only I can figure out the local word for “lady fingers”

Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam

I must try to stop pretending to agree with what some of these people are saying when in truth I cannot comprehend them because of their accents.

I must stop pretending to understand what some of these people are saying when they are mumbling terms like Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam.

I must stop pretending to remember knowing terms like Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam when they roll their eyes and give me the “I’ve already told you this a million times before already” look.

I must remember Pattyyamagooniranadomuthuputhyanam does not really mean anything.