In Chandigargh at the central market area, I was walking by a stand with samosas and speaking to a man with little English. I was trying to ask if they were Fresh from today because they did not look fresh. I do not know why I bother using the word fresh in India-it is a word that noone understands. An older man dressed very nicely in suit pants and a business shirt asks if I need any assistance. He told me I should not eat street food, but my sarcastic self says it is part of the restaurant inside. He says he is a healthcare associate from London and talks about his niece and other friends who are into psychology. This is interesting to me and I really cannot find what I am looking for-an internet café where I can plug in my netbook therefore I agree to go to Indian coffee house with him.
Chandigargh is clean and so is this market area, but this Indian coffee house is not clean. My London friend says he has been coming there for the past 30 years and they have never renovated the place. He says the owners were given money probably ten times, but they pocketed it instead-India.
He orders me a coffee and a masala dosa and I really do not want either of them. I go to drink my coffee and there goes a mouse right past my cup foot on the ground. I quickly pull my feet up onto the top rim of the chair. He does not have any reaction the mouse, but I do. I do not want to eat place where I can visibally see mice. He says he was just at a posh restaurant the other day and saw one. This does not make me feel any better. No mice in my restaurants! He jokes that this is why he stays in India for a couple weeks and then heads back to London. Indian Coffee house speciality- coffee and mice.