I love spicy food.
Amend. I love food. And I also love spicy food. I came to the PG today, and made myself noodles in a cup with the caretaker’s wife being kind enough to give me hot water. Apart from me, there seem to be 2 other girls who occupy this PG. The rest of the rooms are vacant. I imagine the day this entire building would be full. Right now though, it’s just me and the two other girls who stay on the same floor. We haven’t spoken yet. Much of my conversation here is with Vikas, the caretaker’s son. The biggest question I usually am asked wherever I go is – how was the food? Did you eat? What food did you get? Being a vegetarian is passport to starvation, I think. I can’t remember the number of times people ask me how I survived in China. Survive? I did more than that. I lived. :).
But here, I have avoided the grease-laden breakfasts at the PG. Yesterday morning was the South Indian favorite of puri. Somehow, unleavened deep-fried Indian bread didn’t appeal to me. Not after doing a Millionaire Hoy workout. The what? More about this awesome guy later. I have some Muesli with milk. There is a refrigerator where I store the milk, but that’s about as far as I go. There is supposed to be a refrigerator on each floor, but knowing the pace of this PG, I doubt that is going to come anytime soon. But I have had dinner.
Today, I had what can best be described two layers of chilly paste doused with some vegetables. The lentil soup was mildly flavored, but it was the carrot and beans curry that just gave me a wasabi chill. Not for anything are the Andhraites known to love spicy food.
With tears in my eyes, I have to agree. Now, water. Water please.