...India (Five Cures for Homesickness)

Sun setting on the ex-British hill station town Shimla

Seven and a half months on the road begins to take its toll. So thank god for India which has the amazing ability to make one (well, me) homesick and at the same time offer 'cures' for said homesickness. Surprisingly, India is great for comfort food. When our tropical-ized bones rattled in the very British climate (i.e cold and damp) of the mountains, our bodies called for chicken curry and they were answered satisfactorily. Very satisfactorily. To the point where once again, I daydreamed about the actual number of our feathered friends I've consumed on this trip. Though they may no longer consider me a 'friend' I suppose. Where was I?

Rainy Shimla

In the ex-British hill station of Shimla, we sat on a bench eating local honey ice cream. If a food could capture an English summer's day (a rare non-rainy one that is) then this was it. It tasted of meadows, sun light breaking through trees and...hay fever. Really, it reminded me of my hay fever treatment which is akin to snorting a meadow. Still, as we sat in the damp cloud, like so many 'Britishers' before us we dreamt of 'home'.  Which was all golden and happy with an acoustic guitar soundtrack. Basically a mobile phone advert.

Another taste of home has come in the form of the utterly divine gulab jamun, a small ball of sponge cake drenched in butter and syrup. It is like treacle pudding and is at its absolute loveliness when served piping hot (sometimes I force myself to feel homesick so that I have an excuse to eat one). 

A sweet maker

While not quite a taste of home, there is one snack that I am considering exporting to Britain as it incorporates standard ingredients of British food - bread, potato and batter. To make bread pakora, take one slice of crappy white bread, cut into two triangles and fill with boiled potato. Dip into a spicy batter. Deep fry. Serve with ketchup. I had to try it, though perhaps having it for breakfast before a 13 hour bus journey wasn't one of my finest ideas.

Another unhealthy breakfast

And finally, cheese! In Rishikesh, we'd planned to do some meditation* (me with the aim of staying awake for the whole session). On an 'off day' we managed to score some cheddar cheese (one of the better legacies of the British empire). While enjoying a sandwich in our room, I looked over to the open door to see a figure. At first I assumed it was a stray dog but then I realised it was a huge bruiser of a monkey. Dear reader, I confess I shrieked! Finn assumed an ant had crawled onto my sandwich but then he too saw the beast, stood up, shrieked and fell back on the bed. I searched for something to throw and my gaze fell on the tin plate with my sandwich on. My sandwich! Could I sacrifice my cheese sandwich? No! Don't be ridiculous! By this time, undeterred by our shrieking, the monkey was eying up the room. AND MY SANDWICH! Thankfully, Finn had (unlike myself) pulled himself together and leapt up again, this time to bravely shut the door. Saved! I spent the next 5 minutes laughing and crying hysterically. I then finished my sandwich. The monkey returned later to wee on our balcony. I don't know what that means.

* In my third mediation session, I was overwhelmed by a vision so strong, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. A burger, to be precise, a Big Mac (I haven't eaten a Big Mac in about 20 years), came floating towards me out of the darkness. Aware that imagining a juicy beef burger in the middle of a meditation class in a Hindu ashram might not be appropriate, I tried to shake it off. But I couldn't! I could even taste the damn thing. And again, I am moved to write the sentence: I don't know what that means. Actually, what am I on about? It means I want a burger.