Culture and Cough Syrup

Birmingham gets a bad rap as a cultural backwater, mostly from yahoos that consider guys in tight pants and helmets running into each other as high art.

The Watkins, of course, know otherwise. Because of the medical and technological communities, this is as diverse a city as you'd want. We have partaken in some interesting cultural events in the past few days.

Sunday was my birthday and we went to Dreamland for lunch. Highlights from lunch: watching Evan actually eat two ribs, and watching Lora's face as she phonetically sounded out the "No Farting" neon sign that hangs above the grill.

After lunch we went to see two special exhibits at the Birmingham Museum of Art: French Drawings and Ethiopian Paintings. They were extraordinary; however, we were more intrigued by a fabric panel exhibit called Through the Eye of the Needle: the Fabric Art of Esther Nisenthal Krinitz. Mrs. Krinitz was a Polish Jew who eluded the Nazis and later told her story through a series of 36 fabric panels that defy description. This was absolutely one of the most touching exhibits I've ever seen. You can scroll through images of these panels here, but it is like watching Gone with the Wind on a video iPod. It doesn't do them justice, but unless a trip to the 'Ham is in your future, they will have to do.

Tonight, we celebrated the Hindu Festival of Colors, Holi, at Taj India. Our reservation was at 7, and upon entering the crowded dining room our faces were splotched with colored powder. We ate from an interesting buffet. There were cauliflower pieces in some sort of batter that were tasty. Then there were disks of mashed potatoes mixed with spinach that I could have made a spectacle of myself over. There was a lemon saffron rice that was good, a couple of spicy chicken dishes, and a lamb dish that I liked.

Additionally, they offered complementary glasses of wine. The Watkins aren't imbibers by habit, but what the hay, it was free.

One word: Yuck.

It looked like white wine, but it tasted like Vick's Cough Syrup. Joan thinks I'm nuts, and I tried several times to like it, but the more I sipped the more screwed up my face became, and with the splotches of purple powder all over it I'm sure I looked like a raisin in the making.

Before the weekend, I'd never heard of Holi, but I'm glad now I have. We'll look for it next year, and it makes me want to keep eyes and ears open for similar festivals within other cultures in town.

Wine-free, of course.