After a mere 24 hours in India, it hit me: I was sick from both ends, unable to drink even water, and wanted to die. We were in Varanasi, the dirtiest place I've ever been. I rolled around in my rickety bed for two straight days, sleepless due to a combination of being extremely nauseated and having to listen to an elderly Indian man right outside our hostel window hacking and coughing at all hours of the day and night (which made me even more nauseated). Even after I recovered, the nausea lingered for weeks. Jeremy got sick shortly after me and also felt queasy off and on for even longer than me. Every time we smelled cumin and coriander, our stomachs churned. This left us eating at the likes of McDonald's and Pizza Hut more than we're willing to admit. This might be a good time to apologize publicly to Jeremy for making fun of him for eating at McDonald's in China when he didn't feel well because now I totally get it.
Anyway, we were so run down and weak and were unable to sight-see for more than a few hours at a time. I cried nearly every day, upset that we were eating fast food in one of the most amazing food cultures in the world, and wanted to go home or at least get out of India. It was in this low point that we discovered Lassiwala in Jaipur.
Behold, Lassiwala!
We sought out this lassi shop after reading great reviews, figuring it might cheer us up. After making our way down the main road in Jaipur, past the ramshackle carts in the dirty, smelly road selling fruits and veggies, we found it. We made sure to get the original lassiwala (address: 312), and not one of the dozen imitators that sit right next to it. Soon we were handed our sweet lassis in adorable clay vessels. As I had been doing for the past few weeks, I slowly ate the first few bites, unsure if my stomach would rebel against this food or not.
Within a few moments I realized that my stomach would behave, and we quickly realized that Lassiwala was about to become a new addiction.
The Savior of India
I'm pretty sure nothing has ever tasted so good to anyone anywhere, or that anyone has ever eaten lassis as fast as we ate those. They were thick, tangy, rich, and perfectly sweet. On top of the lassi was a layer of malai, which is like a skin of cream. This chewy, creamy layer was my favorite part. In those moments I nearly forgot every horrible, stomach-churning moment of the past few weeks. We quickly learned to hold on to these moments when they popped up during the rest of our time in India.
Sometimes I wonder if the only reason the "highs" in India felt so high was because the "lows" were so low. If that's true, we'll never be able to recreate that joyous lassi experience at home. But that's ok-- especially since it means we don't have to have endure the "low" of dealing with the aftermath of food poisoning for weeks.
Lassiwala, we'll never forget you.
