In the Italian restaurant, they give you a piece of focaccia and a large brown bread roll, which they call ‘country bread’, with every meal. The roll is very tall and quite hard, divided into six segments for easy tearing. I have just watched a well-dressed, sophisticated-looking young Indian woman, in the company of her equally well-dressed and obviously wealthy family, consume one of these, in all seriousness, with a knife and fork, while her family watched politely. The bread roll was not cooperative.
Also, it's the first day of Diwali, the Hindu festival of light, so there are fireworks going on all over the place. Tomorrow is the main day, and my colleagues have ordered a special lunch, but refuse to tell me what it is. They just say it is a surprise and then giggle a lot, which I suspect may not be the best sign...
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