One) Seth Stevenson is one of those writer's whose stuff I read religiously, even if he's only writing about peanut butter.
Two) I never want to go to India. Never ever.
(Addendum on Friday morning: From Stevenson's Thursday installment of his travelogue, this graf is just amazing--
" For instance, there was this guy who smiled weakly and asked us, with a halfhearted shrug, "Monkey dance?" Our eyes followed the leash in his hand, which led to the neck of a monkey. The most jaded, world-weary monkey I've ever seen. The Lou Reed of monkeys. He looked like he was about to sit down, pull out his works, and shoot a big syringe full of heroin into his paw. Needless to say, we declined the monkey dance—which I'm guessing would have been some sort of sad, simian death-jig."