Mumbai Taxi with a Message
You know about my obsession with India taxi drivers. We'll I just had to take this picture. Take a look at the sticker on his dashboard:
"SPITTING SPREADS TB: DO NOT SPIT"
I guess you have to be here to find this amusing. Spitting. It's a fact of life for many people here. Big fat globs of spit out of auto rickshaws, taxi windows, car doors. Spit while walking down the street, cutting a guy's hair, biking. Lots of spit. What makes it even better is the red bettle nuts that stain the spit (and one's teeth) a deep, earthy red. Actually, I haven't seen it as much this time around. It was rampant in South East Asia though, especially Burma/Myanmar. So yes, please follow the wise of the sign, "DO NOT SPIT." Thanks
Monday Dinner
On a totally separate note. Monday I had the biggest craving for udon soup with a half cooked egg. Couldn't find any nearby, so I went for the buffet instead where I was promised sushi. Ermm the sushi was questionable, and I think they accidentally used soy sauce in the balsamic vinaigrette instead of, well, balsamic vinegar. But they did have some halfway descent fresh salsa, which made me nostalgic for summer tacos with fresh guac and salsa on my Hope Street front stoop. And halfway through the noodles I realized the buffet had all the fixin's of a good salami sandwich (a throwback to my ATDP summer courses and ferreting out the best salami and avocado sandwiches on baguettes around the UC Berkeley campus. Double fat = double good). So I made myself some mini sandwiches and at least had my fill of nostalgic delights.
What I didn't mention was that after eating I finally got over my dizzy-nausea spell caused by a 30 minute swimming session - first exercise in I don't know how many months. Kind of pathetic.
No comments:
Post a Comment