Dude...

Mumbai

I could get used to the breakfast buffet at the Intercontinental. It’s just as good here as it was at the Mexico City Intercontinental (where the mushroom omelets were the sole reason I learned the word “champinones”). Adam Smith came and sat down by me, and his first words to me were, “Dude, we’re in India.” Yes we are.

On our way out this morning a few of us bought some water from the hotel restaurant. I started drinking from it when I realized it smelled really nasty. Amanda smelled hers and put it down, and I did the same. We both put some hand sanitizer on our hands—that’s one of those things I’m really regretting not bringing. It looks like it’s going to get a lot of use here.

Today’s food of the day was a dessert they served at lunch. It was like banana pudding but with a bunch of stuff in it like grapes, pomegranate seeds, and an odd assortment of other things. It wasn’t that bad, but I’ve decided that I don’t like having too many competing textures in my banana pudding-based dessert foods, so I didn’t eat much. If I’m going to eat banana pudding, just give me banana pudding, thank you very much. It’s like how the jello with the other things floating in it always used to freak me out.

Honorable mention food of the day goes to the chicken kabob pieces that we had out at the Citizen Hotel. They had a lot of good pieces of barbequed chicken as an appetizer that they would offer to you about every ten seconds or so. I had a bunch, and I would have had a lot more if there wasn’t a giant Indian buffet awaiting me.