Greetings and palpitations from Bangalore, India. This literally means “city of boiled beans”. I am not joking about that one. After 23 hours on a plane, (I had the Jimmy Leg for at least 20 of those hours), Britt and I are in our 5 star hotel which is the equivalent to a Fife Econo Lodge. Perhaps the range has elevated to 20 stars in this fifth world country.
We’ve been here 14 hours and I already despise curry. My shoes, socks, shirt, pants, pillow, and Britt’s hair are all infested with the smell of curry. I’d rather be in Russia where people don’t smile. It honestly reminds me of the Bronx Ghetto area, with the exception that people who steal from you maintain a bright smile on their faces. I was told not to wear my wedding ring because I may get my finger chopped off. If any of you are willing to visit during this two week stay, I would be wildly grateful.
Honestly, I feel very sorry for these people. I have been tipping 100 Rupees to each employee in the hotel (that means two dollars to you and me).
I hope all of you are well and I can eat a cow in two weeks with one of you.
P.S. They claim English to be their second language. I don’t understand one word.