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| the mirror behind me rudely gave the illusion that I had a bald spot... |
It’s my familiar start to a day in India and I stay in bed until about 11 with a hangover. When I get up, I go for a walk with Laurie, who has already taken a walk around the forts. We decide to try lunch at the Om revolving restaurant. However, after ordering a drink, Laurie decides the rotation makes her dizzy and, as the restaurant is on the 14th floor and we are sat by a window, I am not completely comfortable either, so we decide to leave and get some street food.
In the city, we wander directionless around the back streets. We sheer squalor, over population, pestering, and continuous honking of horns leave me feeling agitated, and I don’t feel like exploring the forts myself, although this is partially due to lacking the energy to walk up steep slopes that this would involve. We get followed around for a while by a group of kids dressed in rags, who constantly beg for money or pens. Not that I blame them considering the circumstances in which they live. There are also the obligatory cows and also some pigs standing in their own manure and rotting rubbish.
In the evening, I go to the same bar with Laurie, and JC comes with us, so now Laurie has two smokers to complain about. We also go for dinner and establish that what is listed on menus in India as ‘mutton’ is usually goat.
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