written 26 January 2006
after the guesthouse was a bit, well, grotty, my colleague here has put me up in the home of one of her neighbors. Auntie (as I call er) is a wonderful elderly woman, who lives now on her own, as her husband passed away only three weeks ago. We have breakfast together after I meander downstairs--she's up at quarter to 6 and I manage to saunter down sometime around 8. initially she assumed I wanted toast, and what with my carb-avoidance policy, I didn't quite know what to say. So I said: Indian bread, curd, maybe some fruit, so as not to be too much trouble. I didn't want her to change anything on my account.
But she's so nice that the first day she got out her english tea for me, so that I wouldn't have to have Indian tea--when I explained that I would be more than happy to join her in her masala chai we had that the next day. And so I've been eating this mound of fruit every morning and trying not to worry about the sugar coursing through my veins. Okay, so it's fructose, but still.
With all of this home cooking (fruit, potato-centered dishes, rotis, rice), I'm realizing how different my body feels with tons of carbs in it. I'm tired in the afternoon, I want to go back to bed after a meal, I have more difficulty concentrating. I'm looking forward to a carb-fast when I get back, to running every day (running here is impossible, what with the gated communities and the social unacceptability of it). I've been doing yoga which helps, but even so, it's just not enough exercise. All this for politeness. My mother raised me well. Now I'll need to go home and lose the 5 lbs I'm sure I'm gaining this week!