Postcards from New Zealand: Day Forty-Three

Tonight, we stopped at a roadside Indian joint for dinner, which we had seen packed with Indians on prior occasions. It turned out to be a fast-food kind of joint, but we were tired, so we ate. Every corner had a flat screen television broadcasting Indian television, which was remarkably informed by American television. We watched an Indian soap-opera, which, though it included a Bollywood-style song performed by a woman for her moping husband, appeared to be taking place in a Manhattan super-deluxe loft. We watched commercials for a vedic televangelist program, and for an Indian So You Think You Can Dance? show, which offered a one-armed break dancer.