There's more beef here than I thought

Day 2 was very uneventful. The only thing I learned on day 2 was that I am probably cursed and should never drink Kingfisher beer. My first task assigned to me by Liz was to go replenish the rum I had drank to calm my nerves from the first night. I ventured out into the wilderness in search of rum. I found a small liquor kiosk so I purchased the rum to replenish Liz's "bar" and I decided to try India's most popular beer: Kingfisher. 

I came back to her apartment with the rum and beer. I put the rum away, put the bottle of Kingfisher between my legs and readied myself to open it. The bottle slipped right through my legs and exploded on Liz's floor. After ten or so minutes of clean up I called it a night and went to sleep. When I woke up a few hours later, I decided to try tasting their beer again. I went to the same story, bought the same bottle, and came back. I opened it carefully on the ground, was ready to drink it, when I heard a weird noise outside Liz's door. In getting up I kicked over the bottle; once again denying myself a taste of their beer. 

Today was day 3. Liz slept til about noon because she interviewed the CEO of Whole Foods at 1AM til about 2:30AM, so once she woke up she led me to the beach. We ducked and wove through cabs, people, bridges, etc. until we reached the beach. The view from that point was incredible. All I wanted to do was wade in the water and walk along the beach. This is where one of Liz's (now) famously late warnings was given. "Don't go in the ocean. That is where many people poop in the morning, and if you were to enter it would be almost instant disease."

Needless to say I stayed out of the water. 

I came home from the beach a short while later and napped (I'm still very jet-lagged). Upon waking up, Liz emailed me and told me that we were going out for steaks. This made me very happy. I wrote down the address of the steak place and proceeded to catch a cab to meet her. 

--Here comes a disclosure about Indian addresses. . . they don't exist. In order to reach a place you tell the cab driver to take you to a certain area, followed by a land mark. It would be like telling a cab driver to drive you to "Wrigleyville, Wrigley Field." You get dropped off and then you have to walk to find your way to the exact address. 

The first cab driver I hailed took me about half the way to the steak house, decided he could not continue, so asked me to go the rest of the way in another cab. I paid him the fare (which he didn't rip me off on) and walked the street to catch another cab. 

The second driver I caught was not as good. Halfway through our ride, he pulled over, stopped, jumped out of the cab, bought himself a cigarette (you can buy one at a time) and then continues to drive me the rest of the way to the steak house. He charged me triple what the initial driver did and it was about the same distance. After realizing I had been fleeced, I walked into the steak joint and had a steak. It was pretty tasty, but still served in a very Indian way; with an egg on top of the steak, the side besides the mashed potatoes was a little (fitting 4 or 5) bowl of chips, a chopped tomato, and some garlic bread. 

At the end of the day it was overall en enjoyable day. I'm warming up to the city, so I may be in it for a long-haul.