'Nuff locals were crowding around this kid's hole-in-the-wall. Certainly, the food must be something special. I ordered one masala dosa "to go," proceeding to eat it sitting on a wooden plank of some sort, a mere 5 metres away from the kid. As we picked at the crispy dosa with our hands, hungry, dosa-eating men stared in awe. Who does this Asian foreigner think she is, relishing the spiced potatoes enclosed within her dosa so fervently? Varanasi is full of narrow, winding lanes like the one above. 'Round each sharp turn, there exists yet another sari shop, convenience store or food stall. Go ahead — get lost. Just around the corner, a black, flea-ridden cow plots his next move, hoping to charge right into you.
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