July 9, 2008
I needed to get away from frantic deadlines, the summer social scene, grumpy people and smelly trains.
So I chose blinding heat, crazy traffic, tribal witch doctors, snake charmers and endless souks.
It was all going remarkably well until the fancy rooftop restaurant. Just as I finished tucking into half a kilo of couscous, two semi-naked belly dancers sashayed in.
My man instinctively fake-limped his way to the gents. The two pre-teen boys on the next table slithered underneath with their Nintendo. And the sickeningly glamorous girls beckoned me to the dance floor.
I wondered if there was any space left under the table next door. It’s never too late to master Nintendo.
There was hope yet. The next morning, I found the spice souks. Standing in front of sacks piled high with turmeric, cumin, coriander and mint I smiled stupidly.
Needless to say I have amassed ludicrous quantities of eye-wateringly expensive saffron. I’m thinking saffron chicken or maybe a biryani-style rice?
Six days without Indian food is way too long. Watch this space – although I don’t promise any exotic dancing.