A taste of India

I turn in the key and say goodbye to our Punjabi innkeeper. However, before we leave the motel in Mobridge, Mrs. Jessica Singh insists I have a packed lunch. She goes to the back for a moment, and then returns with a sack filled with goodies: daal makhani, aloo sabji, roti, muffins and fruit.

I don't think we'll go too far today since it is drizzling. Interestingly, it was in the 80's the day we arrived, and now, two days later, it's in the low 50's. Whenever I mention these extreme variances in temperature, the locals just say, 'Welcome to the Dakotas.'

Off the dirt and gravel road that is 1804 south, I find a semi sheltered area behind a wind belt and pitch the tent. Just as the fly is being closed the deluge begins, and it occurs to me that throughout the journey we always seem to get inside just before the heavy rain starts to fall. An auspicious sign perhaps, or maybe the answers to my mother's prayers. Who knows?