Thursday, January 28, 2010
There has been something bothering me for a long time now. Months to be exact. I have been around the world eating. I have ate in the dirtiest, weirdest, darkest, hottest, slowest, fastest, spiciest, freshest, coldest, strangest places I could find. I have ate on the street everywhere. Everywhere except, India. India frightened me. To be more accurate my friends, the locals and the restaurant proprietors all warned me of the horrible sickness I would suffer with just a nibble of the street food I so desperately craved.
I left India having NOT touched one morsel from a cart, stall or street peddler. The defeat sat dormant in me for a month after returning home. I thought I had forgotten about my disappointment when one day that defeat roared back to life. I felt it suddenly coursing through my body the same way I was told the gastro-intestinal hell raising bacteria would if I did not heed the words of the, presumably, smarter. It grew stronger, itchier and madder each day. It attacked my brain, my nervous system and my appetite, flooding my body with tasty thoughts of goodness reaped only from a hot street cart down a dusty ally.
I couldn’t take it any more. I had to do something. I was not heading back to India anytime soon so, I did the next best thing for a shot of redemption. The above video was my shot to stifle and kill this now uncontrollable feeling inside me that I MISSED something wonderful.
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