My rentor slipped a note under my door last night. His family wishes me to accompany them to none other than the Madras Club (yes... the one written about in one of my first entries) tonight for dinner. His next note slipped under the door outlined the dress code (before I accepted, I guess this means no is not taken for an answer!). Time will tell if this or Pondicherry marks my most colonial experience thus far.
If Indian AA alkaline batteries lasted more than one lousy digital camera shot ("Eveready" has proven itself to be "Neveready," as I have been throwing them away after literally one or two shots, and local brands only seem to fare worse... I'm fairly certain onions, soaked in Gatorade, produce more electricity than these "batteries") I would be able to photograph the occasion... maybe I'll just buy a whole pack and throw them away for every shot, like used bullet cartidges, spent canisters littering the ground around me. In addition to the bubble-pack-like mini-packs of water (available for one rupee each) thrown away at news stands city-wide, I'm starting to locate the sources of the piles of trash on the side of the road.
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