Snot

When I arrived in India, I had a heavy cold. I had avoided the cold my Mum and brother had by eating garlic, ginger and vitamin C. The night before I left, I went out in London with Daves and induced a sufficient dip in my immune system by drinking too much Peroni beer. Whoops.

In Ahmedabad, the temperature was 37 degrees. Walking out of the airport was like walking into a sauna. Initially, this was a novelty. I spent the Saturday and Sunday in bed trying to shake the 'flu. I occasionally left my room to get food, but it was all a bit confusing:

Waiter: Good afternoon, sir. How many persons?
Adam: One. I'm really hungry. What do you have to eat?
Waiter: Yes, sir.
Adam: What food do you have?
Waiter: Would you like a drink sir?
Adam: Er, ok. The lime juice looks good.
Waiter: Ok, sir.
Adam: So what do you have to eat?
Waiter: No food, sorry sir.
Adam: But this is a resturant.
Waiter: Dinner is at 7:00pm
Adam: Oh. So I can't get any food now?
Waitier: No, sir. Sorry, sir.
Adam: Aren't there three resturants in this hotel?
Waiter: Yes, sir.
Adam: So can I get food there?
Waitier: Yes, sir.
Adam: Great, so if I go to Marco Polo resturant, I can eat?
Waitier: No sir. Dinner is at 7:00pm.
Adam: Oh. So I can't get any food anywhere then?
Waitier: No sir.
Adam: Oh dear.
Waitier: Would you like a snack, sir?
Adam: Er, yes. What do you have?
Waitier: Sandwich, Pizza, Burger, Fries, Pakora
Adam: Er, right. I'll have Pizza.

The rest of the weekend was like wandering around in a dream. But a dream where a lot of hotel staff keep saying "Good afternoon, sir".