When they say it’s mutton, it’s actually goat.

When we first went to India, about four years ago, it was slightly traumatic. There were freezing car trips with drunken uncles through pea soup fog that took 12 hours, not four, and were interspersed with vomiting/stopping for sacred cows/admiring upturned vegetable trucks blocking the road. There was the reassuring presence of road signs on “India’s Most Dangerous Road” saying “Shimla Police. Better late than never.” (True!). There was a memorable trip to the Red Fort in Delhi through pouring freezing rain where we found ourselves The Only Tourists Stupid Enough To Attend The Red Fort On A Sleeting Mid Winter Day and were pursued through the streets of Old Delhi by 4000 clamouring hawkers furiously waving chess sets/rattles/fans/fruit/water and who were only deterred by the armed entrance of Macdonalds (bless you, golden arches!).

At the risk of attracting Charlie’s wrath, here’s a photo taken that fateful day. And in passing, I highly recommend McAlooTikki, it’s delicious AND vegetarian!

So anyway, our New Adventures In India. Well, they were very dry, and very warm, and very glamorous, and very comfortable, and very wonderful!

So ignore my opening. India is always a blast. It’s the best and the worst of everything, rolled in together, all the time. And I love it. Enjoy the show…

Oh, and when they say it’s mutton, it’s actually goat. Just so you know, OK?

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~ by Niccola on February 16, 2011.

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