I ate Indian food today. I swore I'd never do it again after traveling through Rajasthan last year and being sick almost the entire time but so far, so good. The chicken tikka masala, palak paneer, and butter naan tasted delicious but I'm still not convinced I won't have to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I guess tomorrow I will officially know whether or not I am once again a fan of Indian cuisine.
The moment I walked into the Indian/Tibetan/Nepalese restaurant this afternoon the smelled of curry hit my nose and memories of the trip came flooding back. The frustration of arriving in New Delhi after 36 hours of travel and with no luggage. The crowded streets full of beggars and tuk-tuks and cows and turbans. The feeling of turning the corner and seeing the Taj Mahal for the first time. Stepping in a fresh cow patty while wearing flip-flops. Taking a boat ride along the Ganges River and witnessing sacred Hindu rituals. Photographing snake charmers, children, and colorful sarees. Eating Indian food, getting sick, and then eating it again the next day. Bathing under a faucet in almost every hotel room. Almost dying in the Muslim quarter thanks to a show-off driver. Mutton curry with the texture of a sponge. Touring old Maharaja palaces. Being forced to pay an excessive amount of money for a bad henna design that stained my hand for 3 weeks. Passing camels on the side of the street. Cheering when Shahrukh Khan finally got the girl in a Bollywood film. Missing the train to Mumbai and seeing it as a sign from God to escape to Singapore. Spending time with the most wonderful travel partners.
So many wonderful memories, and even more that I'd rather forget, all from a simple lunch date with friends. Sometimes it's fun to reminisce about the past which almost always seems better in retrospect. Although I will most likely avoid revisiting India in the future, I am thankful for the experience and the lessons learned. And I am thankful for chicken tikka that doesn't cause food poisoning. Yummm.
