It was at Agra–our third city stop in India–where I looked behind me and saw the couple seated next table relishing an interesting looking plate filled with assorted dishes. We asked the waiter what it was. "That is Thali ma'am and sir" replied the amiable restaurant staff. Without further ado, I ordered one for myself while Aileen, still worried about contracting diarrhea ordered something else. For starters like myself, Thali (means 'plate') is an Indian and Nepali meal that consists of varying dishes like vegetable curry dish, dal, rice, papad and curd or yogurt and is served on a large round plate. 

I would often go gung-ho and order the spiciest ones, until later on I tapered off by settling on a mild spicy Thali. Since then, our every stop must include a Thali fix for me which always invite Aileen's curious stare while reciting the words, "Marky, don't you get tired of eating it?". To which I'd gleefully do the Indian bobble head sideways and say "nope, No, no, no. Nope". The thing is, this meal differs in every region as there are Rajasthani Thali, Nepalese Thali, Gujarati Thali and so on. One really would never get tired of having this meal.

I like the fact that, just like with most Indian dishes, it is better to use your bare hands when eating it. I'm not a big fan of yogurts before, but served among the spicy and tasty thali plates, it perfectly balances fusion of tastes that forms in my mouth.

Not long after, Aileen finally tried ordering one at Jodphur, where we spent the morning trying to find this hole-in-the-wall eatery which according to online guides is one of the best in the city. After the tuktuk driver took us to a crowded street and pointed to us what seems like a shop resembling anything except a restaurant, we thought he was just trying to trick us. 

But lo and behold, after asking a local chilling on a hammock, we were given the affirmative and it was indeed the place we were looking for. I haven't warmed my seat yet and I was already ordering another thali. A few minutes later, the waiter comes carrying this large round plate while putting chapatis on it. Again I could not be bothered and just like a kid in front of a spread of candies and chocolates, I started using both my hands to dig down on the plate before me. 

"Okay, I'll order one" Aileen says aloud but with a tinge of apprehension. But eventually she liked it, and since the servings are really big we went back out to the sunny streets of Jodphur all filled up. Eventually after Jodphur, I started ordering other dishes in order to sample a wider variety of Indian cuisines, even though my taste buds are still yearning for the rich assorted tastes of a thali meal.

After I arrived back in the Philippines and my friends would ask me what I misses most in India, I'd answered quickly "the food" much of it was because of this meal. Like everything I experienced during our 25 day trip in India, the food, the wonderful people, the ghats of Varanasi, the Taj Mahal, the forts and desert dunes of the state of Rajasthan, the chaos of Kolkata and Mumbai, they all make up this gallery of unforgettable images in my mind. I can't wait to go back and just sit down on a random food joint and be mad over Thali once again. 

*All photos © Aileen Siroy of Travel. Food. Finds

After my temple run concluded in Yogyakarta, I went back to Jakarta for a couple of days before my Cebu Pacific flight back to Manila. At the hostel I met two other Filipinas who became my accidental tourist buddies. Since we're all going home the same night, we decided to spend our last day just roaming the city aboard a tuktuk, stopping for some sights and shopping along the way. After walking out of the National Monument park (Merdeka Square), we were approached by a thin middle age man wearing blue slacks and tucked in polo, introducing himself as an employee of the local tourism office.

While I already knew that he was not from the tourism office, he seem harmless, amiable and cheery that we find it more of an effort to dismiss him than just accepting his offer. I mean, we know he would ask a 'tour guide' fee afterward and it's fine with us because he promised to take us inside the Istiqlal Mosque, located just across the National Monument Park (which we kind of referred to as Quezon Circle due to its almost similar appearance and vibe). He keep telling us "Hurry quickly" but with a smile, as myself, Tania and Carmel trailed him ushering us inside the grand mosque.

The word "Istiqlal" which means "Independence" was used to name the largest mosque in South East Asia upon its construction in 1978 after a long 17 year construction phase. Our tour guide walked with a demeanor of a confident man, telling people along the way that 'they're with me', I am not really sure about the procedure for visiting mosques, but at the ones I've visited in the past; non-Muslims are always welcome to go inside a mosque such as the Golden Mosque at Cotabato City and the Likas Bay Mosque in Kota Kinabalu. He showed us the way to the changing room where we removed our shoes and wore a robe to cover our street clothes.

If the sheer size of the Istiqlal Mosque is impressive on the outside, the interior brings forth a world-within-a-world feeling. The towering twelve stainless columns that adorns the grand praying hall easily dwarfs dozens of faithfuls seen deeply engrossed in their prayers from afar. Our jovial tour guide told us that "this is the biggest Mosque in Asia", though I told myself to consult Wikipedia first before believing him, I can't deny that hugeness of the Mosque, provides a palatial atmosphere.

The courtyard is also impressive and gave us an interesting perspective of the Mosque. Unique to other Mosques, Istiqlal only "has a single minaret to symbolize the divine oneness of God." We posed for some pictures near a hanging large drum, referred to as 'Bedug' which is made of cow skin and is used with the 'call to prayer' or the adhan. Our guide was very accommodating and even encourages us to take our time taking pictures. We like him already.

"This became popular after Obama visited this place", in fact he was right, Obama really stopped by the Istiqlal Mosque in 2010 and was also graced by the presence of other world leaders like Bill Clinton, Prince Charles, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of Iran and even the late fallen despot, Muammar Gaddafi of Libya.

The Mosque was built in front of Jakarta Cathedral upon former Indonesian President Sukarno's suggestion, to convey a symbolism of harmonious relationship between the Muslims and the Christians in Indonesia, our guide explained to us. Meanwhile, Tania's chocolate melted inside her bag and as she and Carmel laughed about it, our jovial guide is slowly losing his fun attitude by showing a bit of an agitation. "Hurry quickly, Hurry".

Towards the end of the small garden path at the back of the Mosque leading back to the highway, he stopped us and recited his spiel. "I am a volunteer tourism officer, while I took you inside the Mosque, I will ask for voluntary money 20 Euros each ($25)". Wow!, voluntary amount but he specifically mentioned 20 Euros each. At our confusion Tania think she heard 20,000 Rupiah (1.8 US $), so as Carmel was about to give him 60,000 IDR for the three of us, he threw a wild tantrum by kicking an invisible soccer ball and told us "I get no salary just this free uniform" he was on the verge of crying and we felt bad, but at the same time there is no way we would pay him $25 dollars for each of us.

So I just handed 50,000 IDR - and both Carmel and Tania pitched in around 100,000 IDR more, I don't know much we were able to pay him but he is still in a bad mood on the way out that when he saw another woman he was gesturing "ten only" while the woman laughed at him.

I guess we paid him $10 as opposed to the $75 (60 Euros) he was demanding. I think $10 is a fair amount for a work that didn't even lasted for an hour and a half. When we reached the road and about to board a tuktuk, our cheery-turned-hotheaded phony tourism officer bid us a polite "Goodbye" and a nod. At that moment he went back to his nice personality, probably realizing he tried to milk us for a bigger amount, we never budged, regardless it's still not worth it to plant a seed of anger on us and vice versa.

One of the many amazing things about traveling is the opportunity to meet new people on the road. During my trip to Hanoi I met Hoang, a cheerful woman who works at one of the many Sihn Tourist offices in the city. Recommended by another traveler friend Jerik, I sought her out after I arrived to avail of a Halong Bay and Sapa tours. We met and conducted business but by the end of our transaction she unexpectedly extended an invitation for me to join her and some friends for a dinner at her place. Shy and feeling a bit paranoid brought on by a number of Asian gore movies, a series of images involving hack saw, chains and giant hammers flashed before me. "Hello Mark, you want to come yes?" as Hoang tapped me on my arm with a glistening smile and I was back to real world. "Sure, what time? I would love to go" I told her.

It was winter in Hanoi and the next day Hoang picked me up in front of Than Long theater after I watched the city's popular cultural show 'the water puppet'. I sat almost frozen at the back of her motorbike, as we crisscross the busy Hanoi streets, barely avoiding mishaps only by inches, I felt coldness blowing fiercely on my face. It was a sooth ride going out of Hanoi's boundary into the outer city, it gave me an opportunity for an extra sightseeing riding in tandem with Hoang. i felt my hands almost going numb while losing grip at the back handle, fortunately Hoang would slow down once in a while enough for me to tighten my hold once again.

We arrived at her apartment after 45 minutes and one by one her friends started arriving. My introversion at being a stranger vanishes as soon as they step inside flashing their widest grins. Hoang introduced them to me; I heard Vietnamese names that I soon completely forgot. I sensed that they are not fluent in English so language barrier became the biggest elephant in the room, as we just nodded at each other. Later on, their curiosity over their guest took foothold of the situation as one of them struggles to ask me questions in English.

Noticing the strange situation of mixing verbal mismatch and weird hand gestures from both of us, one of them brought a laptop and browsed into the internet. After a while he handed me the laptop showing a Google translation page with his question typed on a box while another box showing its English translation. The result wasn't perfect, but through this virtual translation program, I was able to share some information about myself by answering Google's translated questions such as; "Your Brother Sister aren't here, how old them?", "You here sightseeing or marrying?", "Your parents alcoholic or alive?" there was this one ridiculous Google-translated question that was hilarious but somehow I've forgotten about it already.

So you get the drift about how our conversations through Google translation occurred. I learned from them how they admire Hoang and me for speaking good English, I told them I wish I can speak Vietnamese fluently as well. They kidded me that I should stay at Hanoi for long. I thought about it and in fact have entertained the idea of working there since another friend I met there, Kach - a Filipina and her boyfriend Jon (from UK) have been living and working there for several months and are earning good money teaching English.

While Hoang finished cooking the spring roll and the fish and vegetable dish, me and her friends exchanged 'cheers' over a small cup of tea which somehow helped warm me up while seated at the cold flooring. During the course of the dinner I downed a handful of spring rolls as they egged me on by saying "eat more good food". I stayed there up until around 10pm after I joined them for a few rounds of Vietnamese wine, which has the effect of a Ginebra and Emperador combined. Good thing I didn't fall off from Hoang's motorbike on the way back to my hostel.

Riding at the back of Hoang's motorbike as she takes me back to the Old French Quarter in Hanoi, the cold intensified but I couldn't be bothered. Hoang was talking to me but I couldn't hear her clearly, but I'm sure she was doing so with a smile on her face as I could hear giggles trailing her voice. That night's dinner with new friends definitely made me more at ease with the city - as the next few days I ended up exploring Hanoi, with a feeling that I never went anywhere but home and I learned that the battering rams of communication can easily breach any kind of language barrier.