OK, so how can one talk about India without talking about paan - I mean, come on, there are only thousands and thousands of paan stands in Mumbai alone. Like a lot of things, both good and bad, I was introduced to paan by my wonderful friend Raj, and we never went anywhere that did not include a trip to a paan stand, and there always seemed to be one open no matter how late we were out. Raj was much more like to go for the more traditional paan, which was a betel leaf wrapped around an areca nut, and also a little tobacco thrown in. Raj swore that it was good for you, although he'd start sweating almost as soon as he popped it into his mouth. You'd leave it in your cheeks, much as you would with chewing tobacco. There were several varieties of paan, and also variations between the more amateurish efforts of clumsy paan merchants and the more skilled products from true paanwalas. My friend Al, being more manly than me, will get the more hard core paan - and even that has varieties based on the amount of tobacco involved (I can just see he and Raj now). To my eternal shame, I never advanced beyond "sweet" paan, which was the betel leaf flavored with, again, depending upon the vision of the different panawala, sugar or candied fruit or fennel seeds or coconut. It's not entirely a healthy habit, of course, as anyone who has seen the betel stained teeth and suffered through the endless spitting can attest. Still, it is undeniably Indian (although common in other parts of southeast Asia) and thus it holds a romantic appeal to me.
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