Today while killing time before an interview I went to the Indian market in Research Triangle Park. “I think it’s called “Indian Market”” Man, I love that place. Walking in there is like stepping into another country “say, perhaps, India”, and it reinforces my naïve belief that I might one day be able to satisfy my chicken tikka masala jones in my own home. Every time I shop there I buy bizarre things in jars the intended use of which I have only the vaguest idea. “Whenever I eat in an Indian restaurant, I worry that the waiters are looking at my condiment distribution the way we might look at a foreign visitor who is putting ketchup on his ice cream.” Still, thanks to this store I have the essential ingredients for the World’s Weirdest Tuna Salad. Don’t worry, the chunks are pickled mango rind.
In addition to selecting a package of tea based solely on the beauty of the label, I bought a bar of sandalwood soap. Imagine my glee when I opened it up at home and saw the inscription on the bar itself, making it without a doubt the coolest soap ever. It costs a dollar, which is twice as much as my previous favorite, Bee & Flower Brand Sandalwood Soap from China. But at least now I don’t have to worry that my soap is made by “or from” imprisoned political dissidents.