Monday, February 25, 2008
Looking through photos and writing about India for "blog virgin" dredged up a bunch of memories of my trip with my best chef friend, Gary. I remember distinctly the first night, like it was last night. I was pecking away in the middle of the night in the hotel room, the only light in the room was the screen of my Treo. I didn't want to wake up Gary but I was suffering the worst jet lag. Melatonin is no miracle. Maybe it was the excitement of the day riding around Delhi in an auto-rickshaw, really nothing more a mo-ped with a cart on the back. Totally scary! Totally wild! Totally fun! Crazy, old congested city, Indian music blaring from a boom box attached to the top of a telephone pole, breathing in all that pollution, women wrapped in those colored saris (what a great way to hide any weight gain!) Old Delhi makes Bangkok look like a sleepy village. And the food doesn't taste like any Indian food I've eaten in the US. And are they saying yes or no when they twirl their head around like that? As soon as any waiter hears that Gary has a restaurant, they are all over him hoping they can score an airline ticket to the States. He thinks they're cute. And me, I'm just trying to eat lunch. Yeah, its third world alright. Everybody wants to sell you something. "Indian music, you want?" "I make you beautiful sari madam." Sometimes I can't understand a word they're saying... Is this English? It seems like one long curly word. And jet lag is a killer... I don't get it... 13 AND A HALF hour time difference between SF and New Delhi! Come on, what's the point of the extra half hour? The difference between Manhattan and Trenton? Make it either 13 or 14! Its almost morning, this sleep thing is not working for me! I am so hungry. What do Indians eat for breakfast? Gotta go, I think Gary just opened his eyes.