Qahwah

Bangalore visited me today. Today, by the way, made an appearance after that annoying guest, yesterday, left…the day before today. I spent a total of 60 minutes in the air, 240 minutes on the road, inhaled 100 cubic litres of polluted air and ate Bisibelebath for dinner. An eventful day.

I drank Ethiopian Qahwah at Cafe Coffee Day in Bangalore while munching on Punjab wheat bread stuffed with American corn. Just typing this sentence makes me feel globalized. Qahwah, incidentally, is the Arabic name for plain old coffee, which usually costs about 25 bucks. Using the Arabic word in the menu adds another 25 bucks to the price. Qualifying it geographically, preferably with an exotic African country name, adds a further 15.

And oh, did I mention that my purse found its way back to me? Muneer from Bangalore, hats off to you. Since I don’t really wear a hat, spectacles off to you. Thank you very much for not buying blood diamonds or rocket propelled grenades with my credit cards.

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