Shamefaced....

Yes, gentle readers, I have done it again! Made empty and hollow promises about ...erm... sizzling... posts and failed to deliver.

Yes I feel your pain and sense of betrayal, and I DO apologise.

I shall be postponing the sizzling for next week, since I am sure that all bloggers will be painting the town red on 31st night, and have no time to read Angel posts, sizzling, lame or otherwise!

A HAPPY NEW YEAR to all! Thanks for sticking by me, reading my blog and for all the encouragement.

original image from here

I love you all!

Mwah!

Back!!

Yes, fellow bloggers and blogistas... I am back in Paradise Isle!

Maaannn... I never thought I'd be so happy to eat red rice, gotukola and parrippu!

Still a little jet lagged and running around in circles trying to catch up with what I missed during the last 3 weeks, with my friends, work, kottu, friends and friends.

Await loads of sizzling posts!

Travel log - Jakarta

Gentle readers....

It is with great smugness that I report that not only am I safe and well in Jakarta, my conference hotel is located smack bang in one of the largest theme parks in South East Asia! The smugness fades slightly when I realise that a) I am not much of a person for rides and roller coasters and b) I'm stuck in the conference all day anyway!

So got to Jakarta nice and early and the first thing that happened was me zooming into Dunkin' Donuts and gorging on a sinful portion of double-chocolate-peanut butter delight. Um.

The second thing was that I nearly got suckered by an airport tout. The dude slithered oilily up to me and offered to show me around. Despite my polite "no thank you"s he continued to ooze along next to me and then offered to push my trolley. After another "no thanks" he grabbed the trolley from me, saying smarmily that he was an "airport worker". I was equally determined not to let go, and I'm sure we provided much comic relief as we both pushed a single (not very big) trolley towards the Garuda airline office (where my booking needed some adjustment). Half way there I got his whole (very boring) family history and an offer to take me to my hotel "very cheap".

Happily the Garuda thing was taking so long that I turned to him and said "go away". At which point he opens his palm, smiled oilily again and says "my tip!!". I kept shaking my head stubbornly and he kept saying "tip, tip" until I finally lost it, waved my arms around and reminded him I said "no thanks". He slithered away in a huff, as people, including the Garuda ladies started to stare. But hey, I'm a foreigner. I'm allowed to be eccentric.

I felt mildly guilty afterwards and compensated by tipping both the driver who took me to my hotel and the porter who brought up my bags about 5000 IDR each. My satisfaction evaporated somewhat when I realised (much later) that the tip was not enough even to buy a dunkin' donut (7000IDR).

Ah well.

And for those who requested pics...



I didn't want to take many food pics in the middle of the conference... would seem so godey as if no food in Sri Lanka. Couldn't resist the fruits though!! Notice the 6 different kinds of fruit... and the single lonesome lurid pink pudding... which tasted of pink gelatin, and nothing else. Almost everyone opted for the fruit, in stark contrast to SL where there will be 6 different kinds of pudding and a fruit salad. No wonder we have so many diabetics...


The Rector's office at Universitas Indonesia. The campus is HUGE sprawled over 700 acres with one entrance being in Jakarta and the other one in Western Java! There are 45,000 students enrolled at the moment... wow!


Faculty of Public Health. Each faculty has been built to reflect the architechture of a designated province of Indonesia. A walk or drive around the campus means that you will see different types of buildings from quiant to ultra modern. Notice also the manicured lawn. The university theme is "green campus" and it was adopted in 1987, long before "green" became a fashionable catchphrase.

Corridor in airport... notice all the woodcarvings!

OK peeps, me off to bed. Wish me luck for my presentations!!

My bags are packed...

... and I am GONE!!

Yes folks, after a few weeks of heatbreak and nerve biting tension, my conference was relocated to Jakarta so I am on my way!!

Right now, this post is being typed in KL where I'm on transit for nearly half a day. This sorry state of affairs is due to the changes in flights, and the inability to change others, because of high penalty fees. Yeah, that's what happens when one flies on a limited budget.

I'm checked into the Tune Hotel, LCCT, Kuala Lumpur International Airport. The room is pocket sized (there is literally only 2 feet of walkingspace around the bed), BUT very clean, nice swiss parquet floors, tiny but fully functional tiled bathroom with shower and hair drier and well airconditioned. There is also a huge mirror over the headboard of the bed, which reflects the arty mural on the opposite wall. It's a huge improvement from the poky (albeit, much bigger) hotel room we stayed in the last time we were in KL... and costs about 2/3 of the price.

Ok, Jakarta tomorrow....

With any luck, I will continue to have cheap internet access so can keep you guys updated!

The rain gods...

...they be unhappy....

Brother blames it all on his rain dancing skills... or lack thereof.

Yesterday's thunderstorm caused our garden to flood, with water seeping in through the crack at the bottom of the back door. There were horrid noises in the night... distant woomps and crash-bangs only hinting at the grim possibilities.

We awoke to find that part of our parapet wall had crashed down (narrowly missing the car) and that sheets have been blown off the roof, which was dripping water into the house. Happily the water had drained away, leaving only muddy floors to be cleaned.

While we gloomily surveyed the wrecked garden (the wall had fallen right on top of Mum's prized red palms and gerberra plants) it started to rain again. And the water started rising. First seeping in through the back door, the water in the front garden also rose to a level that it was coming in. Then it started coming in from the french windows from either-side of the house. Meaning that we were being flooded from all 4 corners. Within half an hour the house was over a foot deep in muddy water and we had all retreated upstairs.

Peering out of the windows, there were snakes swimming about the water!!



Well, they turned out to be eels. From the Diyawanna oya.

I still wasn't risking going down there.

So, we are cloistered upstairts... ignoring the drip drip from one point in the roof and the not-so-remote possibility of having it fall down on our heads.

The only consolation I have is that ironically enough, the internet still works!

Whut....? Nooooooooo!!!

Aiyooo!

I get a paper selected for presentation... I get some funding and Darling agrees to fund the rest... I book flights and pay for them... search for cheap hotels and book a room...

Then this happens....

-.-

Earthquakes, tsunamis and now the volcanic eruption, which is exactly 30km from the hotel. The subsequent eruptions that happened today have resulted in suspended flights.

I was all for going to Jakarta and then taking a train, thinking that even if the worst happens, I'll get some great pics. Darling pointed out that there are plenty of pics on the internet, but that there is only one of me, that I am however, a stellar idiot and he is now threatening to cut all funding.

Sigh....
_________________________

P.s. this post in no way intends to trivialise the loss of life and property and the looming health crisis in Indonesia. It's just me ranting....

Pathetic!

I have to confess... this whole thing got me lol-ing with at the sheer desparateness of it all

Ok, I have much respect for practioners of traditional medicine, those who hold sacred their craft, the ayurveda, siddha and unani practitioners. Their practice is not scientifically backed and not evidence based.... but they have tradition behind them, and if anyone wants to get traditional medications, hey, be my guest. However, if you want treatment for acute severe asthma, or a heart attack, allopathic (western) medicine may be a better bet, but that is IMHO.

But of course, traditional practitioners who stick to their craft are few and far between. So many of them give their profession a bad name by giving guli and arishta spiked with prednisolone or dapsone... and we detect it after someone gets a serious side effect like Steven Johnson syndrome or liver failure. Remember that guy who was trumperting in the papers of the herbal cure for AIDS? What happened to him anyway?

Ayurvedic practitioners have no training in allopathic therapeutics (just knowing the name of a drug or how to write a prescription is not enough) specifically, when to give and when not to give certain pills. And now they want to prescribe western medicine and use blood pressure apparatus and ophthalmoscopes.

lolwhut?

Is the ayurvedic tradition so bankrupt that they cannot treat patients with their own medication or is it an inferiority complex that craves a littmann stethoscope round their necks?


I think I just lost all respect.

Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

I just typed a looong angst filled rant, only to have a misplaced key stroke send it into an electronic black hole.

Technology can really suck!

(fumes loud and long, decides to close laptop and go to sleep).

'Twas on a windswept and gloomy day...

... the wanderers stumbled, upon the secret moorland way...

Ok.. maybe not so secret... but this is a long delayed post on the Horton plains trek.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to go at all... unfit as I am, but Darling was willing, and it was somewhere I had never been. So hand in hand we meandered along the pathways between rolling hills, spying occasional swift footed antelope and unidentified birds wheeling across the featureless sky.

The eye could see almost to infinity

quiet stream amongst the greenery

The wonderful panoramas took my breath away... and somehow, I managed the 7km with my breath intact.

Towards the beginning of the trek...

rolling hillside

Lone tree as the mist rolls in

Baker's falls was another beautiful sight... wish I could have taken some better pics.

Cascades

White water

On the way back, we came a cross an unusual piece of flora Indecentus hurrius, often mistaken for pink cotton ladies' underwear. This was spotted as we passed a pathway leading, no doubt, to a cosy nook.

Someone sure would have been in a hurry!

It was definitely an experience I want to have again. maybe next time, we can stay over at N'Eliya and have a leisurely journey back, without worrying about the darkness or the mist.

Am happy...

Night mares

Image from here

...or maybe they should be called night terrors. I have discovered that I am inexplicably prone to them. It got to a point where I would sit up in bed and start screaming... until Darling would manage to wake me up and quieten me down by reminding me that I was home in bed and not in the ward... and this has happened more than a dozen times.

There was the time I was with a patient in the ICU when the lights went out. I remember thinking, "thank goodness there is backup power and the machines still work" when the heart monitor started beeping and showed a flat trace... I rushed to the patient's side... and woke up. In front of me was a blank screen and beside me, a motionless body. I immediately reached for the carotid pulse and would have started CPR on Darling if he hadn't been woken up by my frantic checkings for signs of life. The blank screen turned out to be the laptop on powersaving mode.

Then there was the time I got out of bed and searched for the file of a patient who was desperately ill. I searched high and low, on my chest of drawers, on the dressing table and on the floor... muttering how treatment delays could kill. About 10 minutes of this and I realised that I was actually at home and not on call.

The there was the time where I was on call during a casualty. My ward at that time had no room for doctors. I didn't want to leave the ward at all, even to go to quarters. So the nurses screened off a tiny part of the corridor for me, I brought a folding bed from home and camped out*. And then my senior came to me, talked about an ill patient and outlined exactly how she was to be manged during the next 6 hours. I got out of my camp bed and went to the nurses station, inquiring about the patient. It was 2.40am.

Nurse : (blank look) there is no such patient...

Me : of course there is, I have to start specific treatment, which bed is she in?

Nurse : Dr. you have seen all the patients, there are no new admissions.

Me : (impatiently) look, Dr. R just told me about the patient, she is such and such a person, having this condition...

Nurse : Dr. are you ok? I promise you there is no one like that in the ward...

I spent the next 10 minutes or so, going to each and every one of the beds, looking at the patients, checking pulses and reading tickets before I satisfied myself that there was indeed no such patient and that I had been dreaming. By that time I had a splitting headache, and couldn't get back to sleep.

Then there was the time I was actually awake, and in a non-ward setting. A phone nearby was off the hook and started emiting a beeping noise. I swear, it was the same sound a cardiac monitor makes during ventricular fibrillation^#. I had a mini panic attack... my entire body tensing to the adrenaline rush as I looked around for a cardiac monitor hooked to a dying patient. it took me sometime to realise that I was in an office, and that people were looking at me strangely. At least I was lucid enough to figure out what had happened.

And these are just a few examples...

My seniors were getting most concerned. Apart from the fact that I was, possibly, clinically depressed... there was also a risk (however slight) that I would in a semi-dreaming state order wrong medication / treatment**. I was asked to speak to a counselor. I did, not that it helped much, but the depression lifted gradually and without resorting to pills. I guess I will never learn to leave work at work... possibly because these are people we are talking about here.

So yeah... I sometimes kick myself when I remember that I voluntarily joined this field.

______________________

*During those few months I had my pillow case stolen twice, and bedsheets once.

^#Also known as the rhythm of the dying heart, v'fib usually precedes cardiac arrest.

** It never happened.

Sad news

24 year old Surani breathed her last yesterday (7th September).

May you attain Nibbana, little sister...

Meh...

Image from here

So yeah... nothing much more to say...

Fat-cat Angel!

No time to be kind

a.k.a. one more reason I don't like my job

I used to be a good person. Kind. Considerate. Empathetic.

Then I became a doctor.

I traded many fun years of my twenties for mad studies inside the library. I worked a gruelling schedule, not wanting to compromise my training. I started working in crowded wards that sometimes had more patients on the floor than on the beds. (Has anyone ever considered how awkward it is to hop from one floor patient to another, one hand desperately clutching the sari pleats and the other clutching a clipboard?) I've worked crazy 30 hour shifts, not because it was part of my job description, but because there was no one else to take over. I've stayed up with patients who were certain to die, even when I could have gone to sleep, because I didn't want to miss anything that could be corrected. I've missed uncountable meals and managed to keep functioning thanks to the packeted milo and minute maid.... but that wasn't enough to keep away the bad gastritis.

Still, I've had patients yell at me for getting up to have a drink of water instead of writing their discharge card... even though they knew full well I hadn't had anything to eat or drink for 5 hours. I've had patients and relatives disrespect me because I'm female, even though I gave them the best I could, and never less than any male. I've spent hours educating patients, writing out instructions in their mother tongue and have them blatantly ignore me and come back to the ward, worse than ever. I've seen patients been smothered by their loved ones... twice, and there was nothing I could do (that's for another post). And I was getting sick and tired of the futile nature of many aspects of my working life.

So, I cultivated nastiness. I used biting sarcasm and a loud voice that can be heard all over the ward. It became my defence, my protective wall against daily frustrations. I no longer jumped up the moment I was called (anyway, chikungunya ensured that I wasn't jumping anywhere without pain). But I took my time. I would look patients in the eye and say that I was going to tell them once, that I was going to tell them twice... but after that, I would not accept them into my ward if they did not follow my instructions (even though I have never ever turned away a patient). I pointed out to demanding patients/relatives that I was not a machine. When they got demanding, I would announce my lunch break (I am entitled to 2 hours, although never in my life have I taken more than 15 min.) and walk off. When large hords of visitors flocked in, despite my advice against tiring the patient, I asked them to leave, and restricted to the immediate family. I rarely smiled.

I remember when Darling cottoned on to this change. It was a heavy nights casualty in the female ward and there were several young girls admitted - fever, attempted suicide, unknown pregnancy etc. The ward rule is that males are not allowed in... many of these girls are wearing only skimpy night dresses, or are tossing with such delirium that modesty is not quite achieved.

Yet there are a group of males who boldly walk in with their women folk, and cluster around the aisles, or stand at the door and look into the ward, or stand at the windows and peer in. Even though it is obvious, I ALWAYS explain that this is a female ward, other women are also here, it is not correct to peep in. It annoys me no end when they don't give a damn to what I say and continue to cluster at the door or windows. One night I lost it, and questioned the whole world in general and the offenders in particular if they had no shame, that although they make sure their own women are covered from head to toe, they obviously lose no opportunities to stare at other women in their night clothes, and if they didn't leave, I would be calling the hospital police post. I did not mince my words.

Because I had (unfortunately) forgotten to disconnect a previous call, Darling heard the whole blasting from the other end of the phone. It took him sometime to get over it.

Just before I changed wards, one of the nurses told me something that shocked me. She said that in all the months working with me, she had never once heard me sing or hum a song. The realisation hit me like a cold bucketful of water as I remembered the person I had been... always smiling, always chirpy, always with a tune on the lips.

And I realised... I was not a nice or likable person anymore.

A moment in time

Today I descended into the bowels of medical history - i.e. into the subterranean archives of the Colombo Faculty library. Dimly lit stairs lead down to a seemingly vast cavern filled with row upon row of old books, the air thick with dust, mould and an undefined sense of years gone by. A mezzanine divided the space into two levels, the floor of the upper level made of thin strips of wood, interspersed by wider strips of nothing. I walked, cautious and barefoot on the dusty boards as a shoe or even an ankle could easily be wedged in those spaces.

I have always felt a sense of awe when I see old books. The fragile pages, bound together in leather, cracked with age, the faded gold lettering on the spines only faintly readable. I thumbed through a copy of the Lancet that was printed in 1927, holding the pages up to the muted light that filtered in through windows that were possibly last cleaned around the same year. My fingers traced words penned by long dead doctors; one detailing the invention of a particularly intricate pair of forceps, another speaking of haemorrhage during childbirth and yet another emphatically stating the "hereditary nature" of tuberculosis.

Almost at the end of my exploration, on the very last shelf, I came across a tome that left me entirely breathless... the "Manual of Tropical Medicine" written in 1910 by Albert J Chalmers and Aldo Castellani. Dr. Chlamers was 2nd Registrar of the Ceylon Medical College and during his period of service did much to streamline the teaching of medicine and improve facilities. The Anatomy block which stands to this day, was his brainchild. Sir Aldo Castellani was possibly the most outstanding medical researcher ever to come to Sri Lanka. He discovered the causative organisms for parangi and sleeping sickness, and was the first to use combined vaccines. The book was huge... nearly two thousand pages and as I reverently turned them, I imagined the two great men, discussing the contents and then painstakingly penning their knowledge by the light of smoky oil lamps. At one quiet moment, I felt their presence beside me, displacing the space like the shimmer above roads on a hot day.

Terry Pratchett once said that written words distort time and space. The theory of L space is such that

Those old books may not have the magical properties of those of the UU library, but they did leave me affected, as if I had opened the gateway to literary hyperspace.

I think I have found a new love.

Morning laughter...

Ok, so I'm back at work after a self imposed long weekend and just checked out one of my favourite webcomics... (giggling madly) this one is priceless!

http://www.sinfest.net/archive_page.php?comicID=3623

Happy Tuesday y'all!

Sad

I met up with a friend today... a very old and dear friend whom I got to know on the first day at Uni. I was meeting him after more than a year, and it felt great to sit and talk... I hadn't realised how much I had missed his wry jokes and brutal sense of humour! So we tore apart the old scandals, talked gossipily about new ones and who was dating/married /divorced/cheating with who.

And then I asked an unnecessary question.

I asked if there were any guys in my batch who were "interested in me". And he said no.

I can't describe how hard that was on my self esteem... I know it is silly... and that I was well liked and popular with my batchmates, that I had fun during my almost-6-years there and that I have loads of great memories...

BUT

Seriously?? Not one single guy had so much as a smidgen of a crush on me? What is wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough or sexy enough or lustworthy enough? Do I lack an innate "hotness factor"? Was it the way I dressed? Was it my hair? Maybe I should have worn my contact lenses everyday instead of wearing glasses because they were comfier. Maybe I should have spent more on clothes from Mondi and suchlike instead of the sensible stuff I wore. Maybe I should have used fair and lovely.

Gah!

Not ONE lousy guy.

My ego is really bruised at the moment.

:(

Smelly stuff

Those of you who know me are probably aware of my penchant for online shopping. Mind you, it's mostly window shopping (or screen shopping if you must) but I do get loads of fun out of it. Ebay, Amazon are pretty good and the sheer quantity and variety of the stuff on offer takes my breath away!

One of my favourite haunts is utsavsarees.com - the sarees there are so...ooo pweety and look so good on the models, I just have a lot of fun browsing through their huge collection. Oh yes, and I've bought 2 sarees from them.. one was my homecoming saree, which was a cream chiffon with a bright blue border, worked with cream flowers and sequins. The other one is leaf green with a red and gold border. They are both now out of stock so I can't link to the pics. Anywez, I wasn't too thrilled with one because it had a quality defect, but when I complained they apologised profusely and gave a $25 discount for my next purchase. The green one is absolutely gorgeous, and both are very unusual.

My bonanza find so far has been the Victoria's Secret summer sale, which I discovered in 2007. Actually, it's darling who pointed me in that direction, and I am eternally grateful. Yes I agree, the clothes are horrendously priced, but I zoomed in on the cream-lotion-potion section.... specifically the "Secret Garden Collection". So yeah... this is how I pamper myself.


For a very limited time, they have a "8 items for $35" or "6 items for $20" offer, and this is what I watch out for. I've managed to hook my friends and relatives too, so a sizable order is placed. With the shipping charges, US tax and SL tax all factored in, it worked out to about Rs. 800/- or Rs. 600/- per item, which is great value for money.

My favourites so far are Lovespell (shower gel, scrub, bodybutter), Secret Charm (bodywash, lotion) and the Cocoa butter lotion. A friend ordered Endless Love, and I was madly jealous because that was so intoxicating, and I wanted it! The nice thing about these scents is that they are subtle, not overtly floral and certainly not the in-your-face-and-up-your-nose type.

Well, this is just a glimpse of the "My World" tag I'm yet to respond to (thanks Lo$t)... have fun y'all, I'm going to enjoy my Saturday pampering session!

Hawkers' street and spicy foods

So yes, I regret to announce that there has been a relapse, triggered by 5 star hotels masquerading as street food sellers and the 50% discount afforded by access to a HSBC credit card.

I must say I had no idea there were so many frikkin' cars in Colombo... even though Darling and I meandered towards Greenpath fairly early, finding a spot to park required near superhuman effort. I also underestimated the interest shown by the Colombo crowd, who were there in full force... and it was a little annoying as well - for every person to go "hi meya" at me, there were a dozen going "ma-chaaang!!" or "hi...iiii (simper giggle giggle)" at Darling. Chaarmax was also there, Cindy on tow, heading determinedly towards the food - but didn't see any other bloggers. There was also an over-representation of skinny girls with sunglasses carefully holding hair in place (honestly, dudettes, it's night time), slathered on makeup, sky high skirts and jingly jangly earrings.

Don't mind me, I'm just jealous.

The food... hmmmm... I won't say I was overwhelmed since most stalls were going in for rice with a variation of curries and slapping on the label "South African" (yellow rice, chicken curry, beans and potato curry), "Indonesian" (nasi goreng), "Phillipino" (yellow rice, kebabs), "Malaysian" (nasi goreng).

My favourite was the stall by Mount Lavinia Hotel that was hawking Italian food - the indomitable Chef Lal was having everyone in stitches while yelling "enna enna apeng kema ganna" in a thick Italian accent. The ricotta cheese ravioli with potato wedges was simply to die for, and I'm seriously considering going there again today, simply to have another go at it. They very kindly allowed me to go round the back and take pics, amidst furious whispers from the other people standing around "Who is she ah?" "Why is she allowed to go there?" Darling reports that one long suffering dude kept insisting "no no, she's from Hi magazine men, don't fuss".

MLH display

Chef Lal

Chicken penne pasta on the make

We initially avoided the Mango Tree stall because of huge queues, but were tempted back by the sizzling chicken tikka kebabs on the coals, and the peni berena jalebi. The majority of the crowd was composed of a large Indian contingent, who were having a fantastic time bidding for the eats and treats. Darling very rudely told an Indian friend to go sample something from a different country, before jostling him out of the way and taking his place. Hmm... I might go back and check out the paneer puri today.

Handling the crowds

Chicken kebabs - yummeh!

Making jalebi


More jalebi

Almost....

OMG, this was so delicious!

Ramada was doing the Mughlai Indian stall, with this dude seen madly swishing the roti around.

Roti dude

The Phillipino food stall by GOH looked good, sizzling chicken kebabs, grilled fish, and banana fritters with mango cream. I must say the fritters were an utter disappointment, since they were made of raw alu kesel and the batter was the same type usually found coating chinese rolls.

Kebabs

Taj Samura had gone all crazy with the "Madagascar" theme, and had genuine South African food, cunningly disguised as burgers, yellow rice and miscellaneous curries.

The display

Reaction by the clientele

Genuine South African cuisine

Raja Bojun had risen to the occasion and had a flavoursome stall replete with hoppers, kottu, crab curry, polos curry etc.

Kottu

Curry world

'Oppers

The indomitable Tushar Amalean was there in person at the Sizzle stall, madly trying to direct a dozen operations at once. This was easily one of the most popular stalls... the sizzling smell kept leading me back by the nose!

Mr. Amalean

Sizzle....

Mmmmmmmmm......

The Mediterranean stall looked lovely, but I couldn't shoulder past the crowds to get a good look at the food. It sold out pretty soon, and a manager dude in a black tie was seen later on, regretfully turning away the hopefuls.

All I tasted of the Mediterranean cuisine

Live entertainment

Dessert courtesy of Elephant House

Actually, almost every stall was running low on supplies by about 10pm... but the more enterprising had sent for top ups to satisfy the hungry crowds instead of saying "sowwy, we is closed". All in all, I give the whole thing a thumbs up and will be definitely heading thataway tonight as well. My advice to all you foodies, go check it out, take your HSBC CCs, go early, and take an umbrella, just in case!

____________________________________

Edit : so yes, we went the second time, just to see what we had missed. My fave was the butter chicken bunny chow (isn't it a lovely name?) which is a bread bun filled with succulent chicken chunks in gravy. A lovely South African sudda lady assured us that it was very popular and very South African, so it's got endorsement from the natives! Actually, she could have been from South London for all we know but still....

Butter chicken bunny chow

We couldn't resist going for the ravioli again, and the 2nd time was even better than the first.

Ricotta cheese ravioli

While Darling was fighting for life, limb and jalebi, I wandered over to the Arabian food stall, run by Galadari. This was extremely popular, possibly due to its halal status. (Even an aunt and cousin of mine were spotted vaguely hunting for halal food... I have no clue why). The chappie there asked me if I was from the media and when I went "mumble, mumble" in reply, told me that their Arabian cuisine promotion starts tomorrow, so I promised to give it some publicity. So people, check it out at the Sheherazade where as an added perk, the HSBC cardholder dines free.

Ahhh..... shawarmah....

I found the french fries a little incongruous

Chinese cuisine from the Emperor's Wok

Victim of the crab promo

All in all, I had a great time, ruined diet notwithstanding. And it didn't rain, so I was the only person carrying an umbrella. If you happened to notice a harassed looking someone clutching several bags of food while trying to swing a large umbrella in a nonchalant manner, that would have been me.

Well, tomorrow is another week. Have a happy Monday y'all!