I just finished reading the book Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. The book is extremely well-written and entertains while educating readers about the Central Asia Institute and Mortenson’s efforts to build schools for children (especially girls) in Pakistan and Afghanistan. I highly recommend it to anyone who is interested in humanitarian efforts (it is reminiscent of Mountains Beyond Mountains). It seems especially poignant reading it here—it encourages me to laugh at the small inconveniences I may face, because they pale in comparison to all the sacrifices Mortenson made. I can only hope to live up to his accomplishments in the name of peace and generosity with my own life and career.
On an entirely different note, Marin and I had the best masala dosa I have ever tasted today. It was at a street restaurant, Ghurudatta Bavin. The sambar was so delicious, the dosa was not too greasy, and the masala had just the right flavor. We are both still talking about how good it was. Even the cha was excellent and piping hot. And the best thing? Only 15 rupees a piece! And we were stuffed. This is all in contrast to the horribly greasy pav bahji I ate with Sagar, Taj and Jeff yesterday. These Indian-style “sloppy joes” (no meat, just veggie tomato curry and buns) were good, but each bun was baptized in a river of butter, and the curry itself was no weakling in the oil department. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack as soon as the meal was through.
On that note, I bought 1 kilo of oranges and decided to have one each day for breakfast, maybe with some cha, just to avoid grease for at least one meal per day. That, combined with morning running, may just save my arteries. I long to sample real Indian homecooking, because everyone says it is much different than all this restaurant fare. I don’t dare to eat at anyone’s house here, though, for my stomach is finally adjusting and feeling good.
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