Grub Club: Namaste

My pre-New Year's resolution is to get my blogging back on track, so I'm starting tonight.  Blondie made her third pick this week, and after a heated after-midnight discussion with Champ and Wallflower (tentative nickname there) last Saturday, she went with the Flower Hotel location of Namaste.  There's another one near the top of the loop of Baga Toiruu, but enough people had been there that she went with this secondary location.

You can't have Indian without starters.  It's like a universal law, one that Newton somehow missed.  Since Blondie, Squeaker, Engrish and I got there early, we went ahead and had papdi chaat, which was one of Five's most favorite things (the holidays are upon us, and while I've got some kickass friends this year, I miss Five...and Domestic Goddess...and Lit......)  It looks like a big hot mess when it comes out (not pictured - it's tandoori chicken above), but this delicacy of chickpeas and a whole shload of sauces on...Indian chip thingies (I am actually not sure what to call them, obviously)...is a little crunchy and has a nice kick on it's tail end.

Geek always gets veggie pakora.  I'm not sure why you would want to go and ruin something healthy like veggies by deep frying it, but that seems to be her thing, in spite of being built like a pair of chopsticks.  Blondie and I have more sense - we went for the samosas.  Also basically fried vegetables, but the potatoes inside samosas aren't that healthy in the first place.

Squeaker went for - what was this, anyways?  Chicken pakora?  Let's call it popcorn chicken, because it was, more or less.  Except it was spicier, and that always gains points in my book.

Blondie and Squeaker also went for the biryani, although it was really for tomorrow's lunch, and they seemed pretty satisfied with it.  Everyone ordered a curry, too, and I was particularly happy with my chicken kadhai.  Blondie and I argued over whether her butter chicken or my kadhai was better, but I stand by my assertion that no dish without bell peppers can beat one WITH them.  She did garner a lot of 10's with her choice, but not enough to beat Khajuraho, so I remain the winner of Grub Club.  Go me.

Grub Club: Khajuraho

I go through a lot of newspaper in art class, and sometimes this is a good thing.  Back in November I was laying out newspaper, intent on keeping my tables clean, and as I scanned its content (the Shanghai Daily taught me this is a good idea - there was more than one time I almost gave my primary students newspaper with sexually explicit material on it) I saw the name "Khajuraho."  For some people this wouldn't catch their eye, but three years ago I'd been there with the Evil One, and aside from being one of my favorite days spent in India, this raised my newspaper spidey sense, because the temple group in Khajuraho is famous for its erotic sculpture.  The examples in the photo on the left are not even the best ones I have.

Well, I read the article, and ended up using the newspaper, because it had nothing to do with the so-called "Kama Sutra in Stone."  Instead, I made a mental note to take everyone there for grub club in the future, because Khajuraho turned out to be an Indian restaurant in UB - part of a chain that also has restaurants in Beijing, Moscow, and Ural.  Also known as my new favorite restaurant.

Where do I begin?  They have a naan assortment.  When Lit and Mad Science decided to share it, our waiter warned them that it's enough to feed five people.  They assured him they wanted leftovers.  Even so, it was a LOT of bread.

They have an assorted tandoori assortment, too.  This was another of Mad Science's picks.  It was a freaking ton of meat.  It also included some veggies and paneer (cottage cheese), which I was REALLY happy to see an assortment of on the menu.

The Indian restaurants here in UB tend to have only one, maybe two paneer dishes on the menu.  Khajuraho had at least six (including the grilled paneer tikka).  I went for the paneer makhani, since Fearless Leader ordered the paneer tikka masala.  I should've ordered what he had - the makhani was not as spicy as I would have liked.  But maybe that was because the chef was afraid of damaging our delicate Western palates...

The decor in Khajuraho was as good as the food.  Fearless Leader complained about the seats being too hard, but nobody else had that problem.  Although they didn't feature any of the erotic sculpture, per se - although they did have sandstone sculptures in the style of the Khahurajo temple group - it was tastefully done while emphasizing that this was an Indian restaurant.  The worst thing about Khajuraho is that, like the city, it's a little out of the way.  You'll need to go east on Peace Avenue, passing the Russian Orthodox church (you can't miss the golden onion domes).  It's half a block past the church.  If you get to the roundabout, you've gone too far.  You can take bus 27 from in front of the Blue Sky Tower and it will drop you off right in front of the restaurant.

Chapter Six

In Which I Somehow Manage To Get Back To Hyderabad, Meeting Up With A Surprise Friend From Another World Along The Way

This is the end. The end of the road. We made it into Delhi from the hellishly long train ride through the misty night at about 4:30. Since the driver fell asleep waiting for us to get in, it was well past five before we got to the Hotel Regent Continental (another winner for Narendra - gotta give it to the guy, he's good). We basically collapsed, and I was still sleeping (best bed of the trip, although maybe I was just THAT exhausted), when the Evil One started showering just before 11. At 11:10, she informed me that I'd need to wait before I tried the shower - the geyser (water heater, pronounced "geezer") needed time to reheat. So I whipped out Giancarlo, looked up the contact numbers Divya sent me earlier in the week when I asked about her being back here, and called her before hopping in the shower.

Upon finishing my shower, Evil informed me that she needed to be at the embassy at 12:30 to get a prescription for therapy in the states. Now this was not the plan we discussed at 5 a.m. that morning and I wasn't in the best of moods, anyways. Then she told me that there was a chance I might not be able to get IN the embassy. WTF? So I called Divya and we made a tentative plan to get in touch after Evil's business was concluded - she had to do some work, anyways, so it worked out. We called her as we were leaving the embassy, but since she didn't answer we headed out to central Cottage Industries on Janpath...which, it turned out, was where she was planning to have me meet her, anyways, and where, eventually, we did meet up.

Now, if you haven't had the opportunity to come together with a friend from one part of the world halfway around the globe from where you are used to seeing them, let me tell you: it is a surreal experience. Here is this lovely Indian woman I belly danced with in Omaha, but in Delhi. It made the crazy world in which I had catapulted myself seem so much more familiar and reassuring. We did a little shopping and I was blown away by how she strongarmed the merchants into giving me fairly reasonable prices. I whinge and say I don't have the money and this, that, and the other, and get some money knocked off the total, usually, but when I try her tactics, they fail miserably. The price of the priviledge that normally goes with white skin, I guess. Anyways, it was good to spend time with her, but I stayed a little too late, and I was afraid, when she told me it would take an hour to get back to the hotel where I was meeting back up with Evil, that we were going to miss our flight, which was just not cool because I HAD to get back to RAK.

(I don't know WHY I felt that so urgently, because now I'm dreading it again. Oh the impending "joy" of writing reports!)

Through the traffic I muttered under my breath, urging the tuk-tuk driver to hurry. We made it back to the hotel just five minutes after the driver was meant to pick up Evil and I to go to the airport. I paced until she made it back, a good fifteen minutes later, but we made it, off we went, and were at the airport an hour before our flight was scheduled to leave, and amazingly enough, it was on time! There were no problems in the air, or getting back on the ground, and - well, the prepaid taxi thing was a bit of a hassle, but come midnight we were back in the Hyderabad Hilton (long story about that name, maybe I'll tell you some day), and I was typing furiously to catch up this blog. Twenty-four hours later now, and I'm done. No offense, but I'm sick of y'all at this point, so don't expect anything else out of me for a while. Cheersies!

Chapter Five

In Which I Am NOT A Happy Camper, In Spite Of A Rescue By Our Driver And A Roomful Of Devoted New Friends

The drive out of Khajuraho to Jhansi was not as terrible as the one coming in. Really. For starters, it was daytime, which meant we could drive a lot faster into oncoming traffic, and we could actually see what we were passing by. Made life a lot more interesting. However, this calm state was not to last. Our guide had told us that the train was two hours late, so we took our time getting back, but still ended up getting there a half hour before the originally scheduled departure time. Still, no biggie, right? I mean, we had to wait four and a half hours before, we could do two standing on our heads, I reckoned. At least, I did until I checked in and found out that no, actually our train was - at the moment - three hours late. And then, before we knew it, four hours late. Aish.

We did our best to stay calm and happy, and I wandered the platforms a little, eventually broadening out to the area around the station (which was a little bit scary), and two hours after we were supposed to depart we weren't doing so hot, when who should appear but OUR DRIVER - KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR! wanting to know if we wanted to leave the station and get some food. Can I get a "Hell yeah!"???? So we collected our belongings and followed him back into the parking lot. Now, whether or not he, out of the kindness of his heart came looking for us, or whether one of the travel agencies associated with this trip called and told him to come and get us, I don't know, but he did it, anyways. He offered to take us to his house for dinner, which was a sweet gesture, and I hated to say no, because I didn't want to take him away from his family more than we already had, but I really just wanted to enjoy a nice, relaxing meal without providing entertainment for anyone. So Evil and I gently declined, saying we didn't want to be any trouble. Probably missed out on a great cultural experience, but by that point in the game, I'd had about as much culture as I could deal with. So he took us to a restaurant in the city - a local restaurant, not a tourist one. Evil said it was probably the nicest restaurant he usually went to, and I will tell you that it was good food at great prices and reasonably clean, BUT it was a hole in the wall, and I couldn't help being a little sketched out. More than 48 hours later I still haven't suffered for it, so I guess it was for no good cause.

Anyways, we went back to the train station and each added to the tip we'd already given him, and went back to the ladies' lounge, with me stopping to make sure the train was STILL scheduled to depart at 10 (which it was). When I got to the room, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a full contingent of ajjummas? Yes, when I see Koreans my heart still leaps and proclaims, "MY PEOPLE!!!" These weren't the first we'd seen on the trip, but it was the first time I'd had a chance to talk to any of them, and the lady sitting in the corner by the Evil One got REAL excited when I asked her, "Kanchana-yo?" ("Is it okay?") claiming the only empty chair in the room. It had previously been occupied by a girl's handphone, and when she came and moved it I told her, "Kamsa-hamnida," and it was all over. I was officially the most interesting thing in a roomful of Korean ladies; they wanted to know where I'd lived in Korea and for how long and if I'd been a seong-saeng-nim? Evil was highly amused, I was happily using my bits and pieces of Hang-guk-mal with my people, and the ajjummas were delighted. Fun times all around.

Until they cleared out. Evil and I played gin with her Khajuraho playing cards (procured expressly for this purpose) for a while, and then the boredom started creeping back in. She went back to reading, I went back to embroidering my cossie and intermittently going to check on our departure time. It was extremely tedious, and I found myself, for the third time, wondering if the waiting would EVER end.

Of course, eventually, it did. But it grated on my nerves severely, and if I ever see another Indian train in my life, it will be too soon.

Chapter Four

In Which a Day is Wasted Being Grumpy

Let me tell you about this day. We got up way too early to catch a train to Jhansi, where we would proceed to Khajuraho. Then the train (coming from Delhi) was delayed due to - you guessed it - fog. For FOUR AND A BLOODY HALF HOURS!!! Waiting most of that time in the ladies' lounge on a hard chair and peeing in a squatter did NOT put me in a good mood.

(Don't get me wrong. I can pee in a squatter with the best of them. It's just not fun).

Anyways, I continued to be grumpy on the train because I sincerely dislike having people in my personal space, and I had to share my right armrest with some creeper because Gimpy (aka the Evil One) didn't trust her recovering elbow to a stranger. Which the rational part of my brain understood, but the rational part of my brain was on a vacation somewhere else and so MAYBE I was a little pissy with her, but she is an awesome friend and still pointed out some of the more awesome features of the landscape we were passing, including a random temple or palace out in the middle of nowhere. Or rather, the near middle of nowhere. The true middle of nowhere, as we were soon to learn, is where we were headed. Which is a good thing, because the Persians, who ruled India during the Mughal dynasty, were not averse to recycling Hindu temples, minus most of the art, and I'd be really upset if that had happened at Khajuraho.

Unfortunately, the train didn't take us all the way there. We got off the train at Jhansi, and had a driver taking us the rest of the way. And take us, he did. I can't even explain the driving to you (but I can try...it involved veering around lorries, tuk-tuks, motorbikes, bicycles, cows, and anything else in the road - at high speeds, in the opposite lane, with oncoming traffic. Oh, and lots of horn honking and light flashing). And it was literally off the beaten path - about three hours after we set out the road deterioated to a surface similar to that of your typical adolescent's face - so it was creeping up on nine before we got into the FABULOUS (and I am absolutely NOT being sarcastic) Usha Bundela Hotel, where we picked up our lovely young guide. He proved his worth that night by taking us to an Italian restaurant called the Mediterraneo ("Italian Chef - Dutch Supervision. Since 1991). A great hotel and a real Italian restaurant. What more could two white girls ask for? Okay, I can think of a thing or two, but we'll leave it at that for now...

Chapter Two

In Which the Taj Mahal Knocks My Socks (or just my shoes) Off

Eight o'clock on day two of our adventures saw us out the door of the Hotel Pushp Villa heading for the Taj Mahal (already crowded).

What can I tell you? It lives up to the hype. It's one of theose sites that you can hardly look anywhere else when you're in eyeshot of it. Unfortunately it was another foggy day, but the Taj Mahal shrouded in mist had a sort of ghostly quality that seemed appropriate. As we took our shoes off and walked up into the actual mausoleum, I found myself being moved to tears. Here it was, one of the world's finest monuments, and it wasn't built to glorify some man's greatness, or even one god or another...it was a testament to the love of a woman, the work of a man who had no other outlet for his grief than to immortalize it. Sort of makes Ramses look like an even bigger douchebag.

After the Taj Evil and I went to Agra Fort. Going in...well, it looked pretty lame. I guess after the Taj pretty much anything will fail to impress; it's a tough act to follow. But as we wandered, we started to realize it was pretty fricking cool...lots of good architectural details, both Persian and Hindu.

Oh, and parrots. Have I mentioned the wildlife yet? We saw monkeys wandering free at the Taj, and TONS of parrots, here and elsewhere.

Onwards to Fatephur Sikri, through a market area of Agra. Apparently the Sunday ladies' market was on, and it was PACKED! The traffic and the garbage of THIS leg of the trip helps me to appreciate, more and more, Hyderabad. The mangy dogs and cows rummaging through garbage are particularly pathetic. Anyways, by the time we got to Fatephur Sikri, it was raining, and chilly (Evil will deny this, but it was), so we didn't stay long. Instead we came back to the main part of Agra for a little shopping and dinner at that mainstay of life world round, MacDonald's (don't hate - I have enjoyed LOTS of Indian food while I'm here and only eaten at Macca's once).

Chapter One of...The Indian Adventures of Two White Girls

In Which They Make it to Delhi, Three Hours After They Were Scheduled To
(Also known as "Not an Auspicious Start...")

So. I've made it back to Hyderabad in one piece, my sanity mostly intact (the Evil One's is fine, as well...but she is better equipped to deal with the...challenges...of life in India having lived here for the last ten months). This little jaunt out of Hyderabad began five days ago, with a plane ride to Delhi. Something you might find interesting about northern India - apparently in the winter they get fog. Lots and lots of fog. I didn't know about this until we were all boarded, ready to go, and the captain came on (for the first of many times) to announce that visibility in Delhi was too low, and we were probably going to be delayed for a half hour. The half hour stretched into an hour, and then into two, as we waited for some instrument to be repaired at the airport in Delhi. There are times when boredom sets in, and you feel like you've always been waiting for X to occur, and there is no end in sight, and you will always BE waiting, even though you know it MUST at some point be over.

This would turn out to be a theme for this trip, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

After two-plus hours, we were finally able to take off on our merry way to Delhi - YAY! After two more hours, we were above Delhi, and the captain came on - yet again - to let us know that we were going to have to circle until visibility went up to 300 meters. Which turned out to be yet another hour. And that is why I may look kind of grumpy in the pictures we took at the monuments in Delhi. Also, the fact that it WAS foggy, sort of ruined seeing said monuments. But what can you do?






Said monuments were a.) Qutub Minar and b.) Humayan's Tomb.
How much can I tell you about these world heritage sites? Not much, since I don't believe in tour guides. Here's what I picked up from the Evil One: Humayan was the Shah Jehan's favorite son, who was beheaded by one of his other sons in a bid for the throne (other bloodshed ensued, but you gotta feel bad for Shah Jehan...he'd moved his seat of power to Delhi after Mumtaz' death and was pretty heartbroken BEFORE his heir apparent was murdered by another child who THEN had daddy imprisoned). Anyways, by the time we finished at the tomb, I'd chilled out some and was feeling up to the drive to Agra, which was long and proceeded in Indian fashion (ie, with some scary driving). At about the three-hour mark I mentioned that I needed the bathroom, and the driver said he knew a place we could stop. It turned out to be the (eeeeeeeeeevil) Maharaja Motel, and it was excellent. The bathrooms were clean and western-style, the restaurant smelled good, if we were hungry (we weren't), and it had a plentiful array of tourist schlock that we could have bought if we were feeling touristy (also a negatory). But it had pringles and Twix and bottles of coke and gave us the strength to keep going til we got to Agra, where we ate a late dinner at the hotel's - get this - revolving restaurant called the Merry-Go-Round. Seriously? A budget hotel with a revolving restaurant? Yes, rock fans, only in India.

From General Bazaar back to Shilparamam

I didn't really feel like I was in India (in spite of the autos, crowds, saris, and public urination) until today. It really hit me that I was in another world on the way home from Shilparamam craft village in the auto (tuk-tuk). This was the first one I've been in that has a radio, and the driver turned it on and out squawked Indian music, bollywood tunes or something, you get the drift - and driving down the streets with the wind in my hair and the music blasting in my ears, and the occasional stoplight beggar tapping at my leg...now I felt I had arrived, that this was India. Can't explain why, but the music just unlocked something.

So.

Hit General Bazaar today, and tried to find a sari. Found lots of sari shops but none really had what I was looking for, and the shop I was in Tuesday had better prices, so I started kicking around the idea of heading back to Laad Bazaar. Then I thought, "Screw it - I'd rather go back to the craft village," so I grabbed an auto to Shilparamam (easier said than done - I know it's in the general vicinity of Hi-Tec City, but couldn't be more specific than that, and the first two drivers didn't know Shilparamam). But eventually I found one who did, who would take me there for 120 rupees (down from the 150 he originally quoted), and I ended up buying the sari I saw on Saturday, a cerulean blue tissue silk embroidered with purple and pink flowers...pretty stunning, even if it's not the black and red I thought I wanted. I also bought fabric for a salwar-kameez - tie-dyed cotton, black with flamey orange and red - and a beaded neckline to stitch on the finished product. Now I just have to get the appropriate bits stitched, but with only a week left in India, I'm thinking I may have to wait and get it done back in the Emirates.

Charminar and the Laad Bazaar

I should have gone to Chowmahalla Palace, too, or the Mecca Masjid. I actually looked for the Chowmahalla Palace, and I knew I hadn't gone far enough, but when I started wandering down a street populated mostly with goats and Pakistani flags, with a sign that said something about "this could cause your death." Okay, it probably was not a warning about walking down the street...I have a feeling it had something to do with an electrical fixture, but I didn't want the Evil One to have to make that call we were discussing last night, and I was a little sketched out by the lack of people, so I decided it would be a good idea to make my way back to the beaten path. Along the way I had this conversation:

Indian young man: "Where are you going."
Me: "I'm wandering. Exploring." (Note: I didn't make eye contact)
IYM: "Okay. I will protect you."
Me: "Ha. I don't need protecting."
IYM: "Why not?"
Me: "Because I know how to take care of myself."
IYM: (noticing the kites I had bought) "Why you have kites?"
Me: "Because I like kites." (rolling my eyes)
>pause<
IYM: "You have big boobies."
Me: "We're not having this conversation."
IYM: "You have big boobs."
Me: "That is inappropriate."
IYM: "I want to touch your big boobs."

That was when I turned and pointed at him and fixed him with the evil eye, and he wisely chose to bugger off. Other than that incident, it was not too eventful. I woke up late and took the auto directly to Charminar, paid my outrageous entry fee, climbed for a very long way in the dark to get to the observation deck, took lots of photos, and eventually had my fill and came back down. I got asked twice if someone could take a photo with me - the first time was a couple of single guys and I thought, "No way," but back down on the ground a family asked, and it was a rock star "Why the hell not?" moment. I had them take one for me, too, and here it is:


After my little excursion off the beaten path, I wandered back to Charminar. I had a blister coming up from my sandals but I really wanted to find a sari - I'm having major sari envy here, and last night at Dominic's party a lady had a gorgeous black one with a red border...well, the closest I came was a really luxe black silk one with a silver border, and I was VERY tempted to get it, but their asking price was high enough that even if I'd talked them down to half that price, it was more than I was looking to pay :-( If I still haven't got one by next Thursday, I guess I know what I'll be doing - til then, I'll hold off and hope. Instead I managed to get the embroidery thread and ribbon I needed to finish my cossie, and figured out how to finish the back of the bra...those small silver bangles are good for something, and I figured out what.

Third-World Redux

So the Evil One had to go back to work today. So the Great One had to amuse herself. This means, time to go exploring! The bandh (political protests, often violent) starts back up tomorrow (supposedly today was some sort of Muslim holiday...probably Ashoura but I'm not sure-a), which meant this may be my only day to explore this week, depending on how long it goes on for.

I have reports to write. I have a belly dance cossie to finish. This would not be the end of the world. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

So. Exploring. It was about 9:30 when I finally left the house. I decided the first thing I wanted to do was wander the streets for a ways, so I headed off down the hill. What can I tell you about Hyderabad? It's unruly - India in general I guess it, but it's difficult for me, being in a city this size and having very little idea of which direction is which. I know which streets I've been on and where I turned off them, and that's about it. I don't have the ability to anticipate where a road will take me and how to logically get from point A to point B. Which is kind of frustrating, but what can you do? Pick a street, pick a direction, and go, knowing that when you get in the auto-rickshaw and tell the driver the name of the very prominent hotel you are living next to, that at the end of the day, you will get home.

As I wandered down the street, I passed a Hindu temple...whose, I'm not sure. It was colorful, and you heard the bell being rung occasionally. Life was taking place along the way; a city waking up as workers swept the streets. Evil tells me Hyderabad is just about the cleanest city she's seen in India, and at 10 in the morning, I believe it...however, I still don't think I'd walk barefoot on these streets for love or money. At the bottom of the hill I came to an intersection and chose to go left - it was a smaller street, and it looked interesting. I passed cows that were just waking up for the day, women digging through a dumpster, shops starting to open, small children playing. I was absolutely the only white person on the street, but I felt safe, even if I did stick out like a sore thumb.

After a while the lane ran out into a larger street, and I decided I was ready to go be a tourist for a while. Evil mentioned Golkonda Fort and the Qutb Shahi tombs, so I hailed an auto and told him where I wanted to go...unfortunately, as we started moving it became very apparent he had no idea where that was. He stopped a well-dressed man walking past, and had him translate for me, and then tried to jack the price up on me. I don't think so. I got out of the auto and found a guy who knew where I wanted to go and was willing to take me for 100 rupees - which may have been too much, but seemed fair at the time. I made it out there alright, and got back in one piece - I'm not going to bore you talking about Golkonda because I don't know or care enough about architecture to try and describe it to you. It's a big fortress. What more do you need to know? I got another auto back here with no problems, and I even recognized where I was once I got to the street where I turned in the morning, and had Indian for lunch at a restaurant in - get this - an old train dining car, complete with serving staff costumes, and they had AMAZING mocktails! And now I'm stuffed and I don't want to think about eating ever again.

INDIA!!! It's set in India!

I've been waiting a while to use that line.

So here I am, in Hyderabad, in the Evil One's fabulous state department flat. Let me tell you something - this is not how I typically travel. Not just the posh lodgings, but giving up my navigational duties and taking things at a slower pace. I got in at 5 a.m. on Thursday morning. I slept til ten, then I wasted a few hours reading and goofing off on the internet before Evil came home and put me to work stirring the things she was making for her Christmas party. I socialized with strangers...well, to an extent. Before the party really got started, I got out the back of the belt I needed to sew and started stitching, which later on sort of backfired, because when her friends asked what I was making, I saw no reason to lie about the fact that it was a belly dance costume, and they all wanted me to demonstrate...which led to everyone showing off their dance skills. Kinda strange and wonderful, actually.

The next day was Christmas, and while Indian Mormons apparently go to church on Christmas, the Evil One and I saw no reason to do so ourselves. Instead we opened our presents, went across the street for coke and Indian food, and napped while waiting for her cute Indian-Mormon-boy-Partner-in-Crime, Nik, to come over for a True Blood marathon. "Nik watches True Blood???" I asked Evil. "Does he KNOW what HBO is like??" Apparently he does. He was likewise interested in my decision to drag her to Khajuraho...a stop on our itinerary that she hasn't shared with her other church friends. That evening, she dragged me to a Christmas dinner at a consular friend's EVEN LARGER AND POSHER flat. One of the gals had been to Shilparamam that day, a huge craft fair, and Raika, a soon-to-be-consular-ex-wife volunteered to take us yesterday. Of course, though, she had a hangover from the previous night's wine, so it was noon before we left the house, late roll-outs being another thing I don't normally do on my travels...but then, things in India don't open until 11 or so, anyways, or so the Evil One tells me, so I should just probably just shut the heck up, sit back, and enjoy the ride. I can do this - I don't normally travel this way, but I managed it for Bronte last fall...but of course, that was Greece, and I was getting cooking lessons during the lazy afternoons, and it's hard to feel antsy when you're full of moussaka. And just as I had real travel coming up then, this tour's real travel bit doesn't start til the 2nd, so I should probably conserve my energy and money and concentrate on not getting Delhi Belly...(non-degenerate formula? A coke for brekke, a coke for lunch, a coke for dinner - this method has seen me through the third world countless times over. The acid in coke will kill just about anything).