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Published: March 28th 2013
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I’ve loved Indian food since I first had it early in High School. I verily thought I could eat it every day for the rest of my life. So, now that I’ve eaten Indian every day for the past 22 days, in India itself, is that still true? Hmm… ok, maybe not every day; but still probably once a week, if it’s the Americanized Indian.
In general, the food here lacks variety, is oily, lacks taste other than curry, cumin and turmeric and uses unreliable ingredients. And don’t ask an Indian cook to cook you anything other than Indian – it’ll all taste like curry, cumin and turmeric, whether it’s pizza, pasta, or a fish sandwich. We were in a restaurant in Palolem that had Mexican on the menu; I gave it a quick thought, and correctly decided against the chicken burrito when we received (to our surprise) our complimentary chips and salsa – “salsa”, I wanted to tell them, is not ketchup with curry, cumin and turmeric. Even the McDonald’s we’d visited in Mumbai for a change of pace didn’t really change the pace, other than the fries. I had the Chicken Maharaja Mac – Mumbai McDonald’s
answer to the Big Mac in a red-meatless country. The only thing resembling the real thing was the bun. And the special sauce? Guess what? Yea – it tasted of curry, cumin and turmeric.
I don’t want to be completely negative, as we’ve had some great meals here, especially in Kerela and Goa, which typically have more and fresher produce than the poorer, more barren India of the north. Kaju Curry, Aloo Ghobi, and Shahi Paneer have been some of my favorites. The Naan has been fantastic, the best I’ve had other than possibly at Tandoor Palace in Warsaw, Poland. Another place we ate at in Palolem served us Cheese Naan with loads of cheese, like a little pizza – very tasty.
Klaudia is doing especially well with the spiciness, and I believe her tolerance is reaching new heights. Unfortunately, they’re holding back on me, no matter how much I plead. That’s one thing I like about Mexico: when I ask for “very spicy”, they want to inflict a little pain on this show off gringo; conversely, the Indians are too nice in this respect. On one of our bus rides we made a
routine food and bathroom stop at a shop/restaurant with not much food to choose from, so I asked for some homemade spicy chips.
“Is spicy,” replied the boy at the counter.
“Yes, I know. It’s ok.”
He gave me an uneasy glance and filled up a plastic bag with the chips. We walked over to the counter to pay, and the cashier said something to the boy I didn’t understand, but I interpreted it as having something to do with the spicy chips.
“Is spicy,” the boy said again.
“Yes, ok. No problem.”
Following another look of concern, he pulled out one of the chips for me to try. I took it and ate it.
“No problem. It’s ok.”
The cashier and the boy gave me an amazed head bobble and I was on my way; the chips were good.
Our guidebook states that between 30-70% of tourists will become ill in India during the first two weeks of travel. I don’t quite understand the range of 40%, but let’s split the difference
and say half of all tourists. Well, four weeks had come and gone and we were feeling great. What’s the problem with that? I was starting to feel delusions of invincibility and just eating absolutely everything – restaurants, juice stands, street food… nothing was off limits. Klaudia would reproach me, but I kept asking her, “How do I know I’m pushing the limit if I don’t know what the limit is?” Well, I know where it is now and I spent a very horrible night two nights ago on the toilet with a 104 fever. In all honestly, I don’t ever remember being this sick, and it’s some weird Asian bug I’ve never experienced. We went to a medical clinic yesterday and I’m much better today. I told the doctor I’d taken Cipro, to which he replied that Western medicine will not work on “Indian sickness”. He wrote me a shopping list prescription, gave me a malaria test – which is as available at the pharmacy as pregnancy tests are in the West – just as a precaution, and told me to lay off the street food.
“Even samosas?”
“Plain rice and dhal –
that is your diet,” he replied with a smile, then added, “Every tourist has this problem: diarrhea, fever, pain. You don’t have an Indian stomach. Don’t worry - you’ll feel better in two days.”
He was right. India is not for the faint of heart, and I suppose it’s just a right of passage.
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