Incredible India

Next big step! I Arrived in Mumbai, India on February 5th (sorry for the blogging delay, my computer died the day I left Thailand, so this is going to be a bit more difficult, now). The flight was pretty short, I think only 5 hours, if that? On the plane, I was seated next to an older Indian man (probably in his 50's) who told me a lot about places to see and dangers and annoyances of the culture and country. He walked me through immigration and waited with me at baggage claim. He even gave me his number, as well as his wife's, in case I were to get into trouble in India--the kindness of strangers! It was interesting, however, to notice the different between the way he treated me as opposed to the staff of the airplane. Where, with me, he was very polite and informative and curious, he was completely opposite with the polite and accommodating staff. When dinner came, the steward informed the man that there were only vegetarian options left; he immediately got heated, "well that's not MY problem, that's YOUR problem, I don't want a vegetarian option, find me Lamb." It was extremely awkward; when the steward looked at me I said that veg was fine (what's the big deal?). This happened numerous times with drinks and needing ice or soda or what not. I actually noticed this behavior a lot over the next few days in India, well-to-do locals treating those in the service industry like serVANTS...disgusting.

We arrived at 9:30pm and I had no idea where I was going to stay, so at baggage claim I started looking for people that might be backpackers (the tell tale signs are big rucksacks, baseball caps, and the thoroughly confused expression while looking around a room for comprehensible signs). I scouted out two guys that could be helpful; the first was a Canadian who was in India on business so he had no clue and the second was my savior. My only other hope was a blond haired guy who looked like he was in his mid 20's. I asked if he was a backpacker and he immediately knew that I had no idea where to stay. He was really nice and was cool with me sticking around him; we just had to wait three hours for his girlfriend's plane to arrive from Germany. Whatever!

The Mumbai airport was the least stressful experience I'd ever had upon entering a foreign country They have pre-paid taxis, so no one is hassling you to buy anything--it was like a breath of fresh air (though there is none of that to be had in this city). However, there is no inside waiting area. Hundreds of people are outside the exit waiting for friends and loved ones. We took a seat on the curb and chatted about running marathons and traveling until his girlfriend showed up. We got into a taxi, which is an old vehicle that looks like it's out of the 50's and barely starts and he brought us to Colaba--the area with a lot of accommodation and just really the place to be (this is also where The Taj hotel is--where the Mumbai shootings occurred recently). The Salvation Army was full (the Backpacker haven), so he stopped at another guesthouse where another man said there was a free double and single room--yes! We had to walk up four flights of stairs which were SO dirty; I was told that it would be bad here, but I had no idea to the extent. There were dirt piles and bags of who knows what on the windy stairs--cracked cement and graffiti everywhere. When we finally got to the top the man at reception said it was full--what??? Lairs! When we got back down, the taxi was obviously gone so, we made the same guy show us a new place, which, luckily, did have vacancy. My room was a cell. If I stood up and put my arms straight out I could touch either wall. Ok, not bad, whatever. However, the sheets were NOT clean--I slept on my towel due to the discovery of little hairs on my bed-goo, gross. The next morning I ran over to the Salvation Army to get an open bed. It's not clean by any Western standards, but much better than the "Delight Guest House." I was in a dorm room with maybe 20 beds and one bathroom--water and dirt everywhere but at least my sheets looked clean.

I decided to go for a walk and was asked by a stranger, right outside of the hostel, if I wanted to be an extra in a Bollywood film that night--uh, yeah! 500 Rupees (10 bucks) and free dinner; I'm in! To kill time until the meeting at 5 pm I went for a little walk around the area. An older man (Indian and around 50 years old) started walking next to me, asking how I liked his city. I said I didn't really know since I just showed up. He kept walking with me and trying to have a conversation but I was a bit on my guard. He obviously understood how I was feeling because he started saying that he had children and no interest, he just canceled a meeting and wanted someone to talk to. I decided getting some lunch with him wasn't a bad idea, so he brought me to Leopold's cafe which is a very popular spot because it A) has a great location on the main road of Colaba for people watching B) was where the author of "Shantaram" hung out and C) was a scene where the Mumbai terrorist shootings took place. There are still bullet holes in the glass--it's a very sad and eerie feeling when you look over your shoulder and see a hole in the wall. Turns out Sanjay works in the Indian stock market and is quite well off. He paid for my lunch and insisted on giving me a tour of the city--you can call me naive if you want, but I had a good feeling so I figured, why not? He picked me up in his car and brought me through the government area, the floating gardens which are on top of a water reserve tank and has many shrubs sculpted into animals, onto the edge of the Arabian Sea which has large cement structures leading to the water that look like massive jumping jacks and also to see the floating mosque which is surrounded by water when the tide comes in. He got me back just in time to get on my bus to the Bollywood set for the movie "Purple Lake." A group of about fifteen Westerners participated as extras in a club scene. We were dressed in all black--I was put in a heinous spandex number with gold sequins around the bust and a slit in the back up to my bum. I HAVE a hot black dress with me dying to be worn, I could have brought that! Grr. Oh well. They also didn't have shoes to fit my Flintstones Feet so I had to wear my flip flops (ha). All night we sat around with spurts of dancing; I was paired with this extremely hot and yoked up Indian dude, nice to look at but had nothing to say-awkward. The shoot moved incredibly slowly; apparently there really isn't a strict time line in order to get things accomplished. The dancers were learning and practicing the moves between every shot; they never had any rehearsals! That's just crazy to me; but I guess it's their time and money that's being wasted, that would just not fly anywhere else that I know of. Filming wrapped up at around 3:30 am and we were bused back o Colaba. We had to pound on the door to get in because we were not aware that the entrance was locked at midnight--whoops. Flashed those pearly whites and had no problem:)

I passed out for a few hours and then Sanjay picked me up for a bit more sightseeing at a Buddhist temple right in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the city as well as to a mall to try local foods. I had Pani Buri, which are fried dough cups with a spicy sauce in it and a bunch of other fried doughs with sauces. All of which is eaten with your hands--your RIGHT hand to be precise because the left is your "poo" hand. After which, I told him I was exhausted and really needed to sleep. It took a bit of convincing, but he brought me back so I could rest. At this point I really hadn't slept much in the past four days and was getting a crazy cold; I slept for a total of 17 hours, I knew I was sick and tired but I didn't realize I was that exhausted. When I got up the next morning I wondered around all day and with to a music/art festival called Kala Ghoda. There were a lot of locally made goods being sold; bags, art, journals, etc and a few stages for music , theater, and dance. That evening, I was sitting in the crowd when a female singer, Sabitha, came out on stage and everyone went NUTS! Turns out, she's really famous, like, the Brittney Spears of India. The music was very up beat but is nothing like what you'd hear in the states--high pitches, abrupt vibrato and awkward chords that seem to clash but work. I had to cut the performance short in order to go to my overnight train to Goa, where I would be staying and working, kinda, for the next month.