Monkeys in Bangalore
I saw them last week, duelin' on our balcony. Two pale-furred monkeys squabbling viciously. Clawing. Angry. Apparently they visit once a month from Banaras. Or so I've been told. Anyone know different? Seriously, how cool is this? For those who might not know, monkeys are not common at all in Southern India. Our monkeys hang around Delhi, and don't mess with the dosa-eaters.
Speaking of dosa, something's missing from my diet. And that something is dairy--I am 89 percent sure. Gotta get on that curd. I don't normally drink milk--a habit which will have to come a swift end. I never fully appreciated how cheese-laden an American diet is.
When I gave up meat three years ago, I would have vivid dreams of juicy steak, chicken legs, and lamb. In India, I obssessively dream about food. Doesn't matter what's happening, at some point I will take a break to devour some rice and sambhar. Which is strange, since there is no shortage of rice-and-sambhar in my life right now.
Last night I dreamt I was eating chocolate ice-cream and banana-split sundae served to me by a white woman wearing a red uniform. In my dream, I am embarrased that the woman will know that they are both for me. To avoid this, I pretend I am waiting for someone to join me.
Update: Acha baba, monkeys live all over India not just the north. *sigh*