NAZ Foundation, Kashmir Cashmere, and Sabir our friendly driver

Delhi is a completely different city than Bombay.

Before arriving in Delhi my professor told us that she hated coming to Delhi because it would remind her that she was a woman.

After being here for about three days I find this to be true. At first I thought it was because we were foreigners. But as I walked around I noticed that in the northern part of India I could fit in very well. People in this area seem to have more ancestry of China and the neighboring Asias. It is here in Delhi that I have been asked which part of India I am from.

I think it's just because of my brown skin, and I also find it very funny.

As we continue to venture out we notice that service in some places is not as nice and many times absent. In a restaurant we were barked at as the waiter insisted we were ordering the wrong things together. "No. We do want the Chicken Masala and rice, we don't want dosas." As he stomps away without a word.

It makes me appreciate the fact that at home I can freely walk the streets without being stared at, take a cab without being swindled, order freely in a restaurant, and have the ability to go out after the sun sets.

Because of this fact of two young women traveling alone we have had to hire a car from the hotel to drive us to our destinations. His name is Sabir. He is a hefty man about 5'9 and with a lazy right eye. He trots very slowly and I can tell that he will not go any faster even if his life depended on it.

He has been very nice and plays all the Hindi bollywood music we ask, unless its a song that HE doesn't like. In this situation he changes it and puts on "better song."

We had to hire Sabir because as journalists we were fascinated by the HIV/AIDs situation in India. We were refereed to the NAZ Foundation by one of the documentary film makers that we met in Bombay.

We didn't know much about it, but after finding the website we find out that Richard Gere is a huge celebrity supporter. And we understand why.

The foundations center is a house located in the hub of Delhi. They are an orphanage for abandoned children who either have AIDs or have been tested positive for HIV. There are about 35 children living there and they range from the ages of 18 months to 15 years.

AIDs and HIV in India is fairly new. The first diagnosis was only in the year of 1986 so this is the first generation that is growing with the disease. The foundation not only houses these children but they give a life long commitment to help them.

Not only are the children sick but they have also been abandoned and have no families. This organization is doing a beautiful thing.

After spending quite some time here Sabir decided to take us to Kashmir Cashmere. Where Professor Butt (I know but that's what his card says) showed us handmade carpets from Kashmir.

They were beautiful. And I bought one. It is being shipped to Seattle as we speak. (shipping was cheaper if we sent them to the same place)

This guy was a professional. We had three cups of tea throughout the process (yes like the book, Three Cups of Tea) one right after being introduced. Another while we were making our decision. And the third when we made our agreement.

So dang! Now I have a handmade cashmere carpet from Kashmir that is suppose to last me a lifetime. I figured it was a more substantial purchase than all of the fake pashminas and fake silk scarves that I have already bought. So when I'm in my 70's and reminiscing about my first travels to India when I was 20 I can look at my cashmere carpet handmade by village women in Kashmir and it'll be worth the hole in my bank account.

This will be my last blog until I return home.. or find free Internet. Tomorrow is my last day in Delhi, and in India. I am on a late night flight and we don't want to pay for the Internet one last time (it is sort of starting to add up.)

Goodbye smoggy Bombay, goodbye little cabby's and rickshaws, goodbye Sabir, professor Butt and the elevator man at the West End with the hairy ears (he made my day every morning because he was always so happy to see us) Goodbye street vendors and haggling, goodbye amazing spicy food, and monsoon downpours.

Goodbye India. I'll be back soon.

Taj Mahal

According to my Fordor’s India Guide: 5th Edition, the Taj Mahal was built for Arjuman Banu. She was the wife of Shah Jahan.

It was said to be love at first sight. When Shah saw her he knew that he would marry her and he was persistent until it happened. In 1612, at the age of 21, they married.

She became his favorite wife, his Mumtaz Mahal (Exalted of the Palace) and Mumtazul-Zamani (Distinguished of the Age). Numerous stories recall this woman’s generosity and wisdom, both as a household manager and as an adviser to her beloved husband. She bore 14 children, and it was in childbirth that she passed away in 1630.

“On her deathbed, it is said, she begged the king to build a monument so beautiful that the world would never forget their love. Shattered by her death, legend claims, Shah Jahan locked himself in his chambers for a month; when he finally emerged, his hair was white. Five months later, a huge procession brought Mumtaz Mahal’s body to Agra, where Shah Jahan began the process of honoring her request.”

“The construction began in 1632. It took over 20,000 laborers and 22 years to construct.
The Taj stands at the end of a large, four-quartered charbagh (garden) to symbolize paradise. Today it is green grass but when it was first landscaped the garden was filled with fragrant blossoms and orange groves. The garden extends about 1,000 feet in each direction from the small central pool.

The Taj Mahal stands at the end of the long reflection pool. A slender marble minaret stands at each corner of the platform, blending so well into the general composition that it’s hard to believe each one is 137 feet tall. The minarets are built at a slight tilt away from the tomb so that, in case of an earthquake they’d fall away from the building.

The Taj Mahal’s most extraordinary feature is its onion dome, crowned by a brass finial mounted in a scalloped ornament, which is an inverted Hindu motif of the lotus. The dome uses the Central Asian Technique of placing a central inner dome, in this case 81 feet high, inside an outer shell to attain the extraordinary exterior height of 200 feet; between the two is an area nearly the size of the interior hall itself. Large chattras (umbrellas) raise the dome above the minarets.”

That was a quick history lesson thanks to various sources and my Fordor’s.
As for my description… I’m not sure if I have one yet. The train ride to Agra is a blur. We woke up before dawn and boarded a train that left at 6:15 AM it was about a two hour train ride. When we arrived we were frantically put onto a bus and taken to our hotel. I was tired and very hungry.

I felt guilty in my relief of the luxury that we found in Agra. We stayed at a Hilton and for a moment I forgot that I was in India; it felt like I was in sitting pool side in Palm Springs. Even though I felt relieved I really missed the eccentric West End it felt more real for some reason.

The next morning we awoke late and headed out in the afternoon. It was Taj Mahal day. This was the day that I’ve been anticipating since I took an Asian Art class at East Los Angeles College. That was about 3 ½ years ago. I didn’t know when I was going to go, but I knew I wanted to see it, I knew I was going to… just not this soon.

Everything about it fascinates me; the love story, the architecture, the workmanship, the beauty… and not to mention its one of the wonders of the world.

Before heading to the Taj we visited another monument historic to Agra.
Agra Fort is another structure built by the same family of the Moghul Empire. It is made of sandstone and it is HUGE. The history behind it was amazing.

There were harem girls, a torture alter, and a few beautiful frescos still remaining in the fort. Our tour guide gave us descriptions of what it looked like when the Empire was thriving; hand made carpets lined the floors and expensive drapery covered the windows and doorways, lines of jewels strung along the sky and lined the walls.

It sounded beautiful.

After spending quite some time there and getting very hot, very sweaty, and very sticky we boarded the bus once again and headed to the Taj. I was so excited I had butterflies in my stomach.

Just outside the Taj Mahal’s entrance is a large sandstone structure that is a monument in itself. But once you walk through the doorway you can see why it sits in the shadows.

It didn’t look real standing in the huge entry way. There was almost a haze around it. For some reason the sounds changed once we walked through the doors. Flocks of sparrows flew through the sky and dragonflies fluttered about.

As cheesy as it sounds the atmosphere within the courtyard really is romantic. The heat even seemed to vanish because there was a slight breeze that cooled you off just as it began to get humid again.

As I stood there it didn’t really settle the tour guide gave us free reign for almost four hours. So I broke away from the group with my trustee camera in hand and started making my way up the long walk way along the reflection pool.

Just as I hit the center platform I began to cry. Not at the beauty, not at the magnificence of the large feat of human construction; but because I was standing half way around the world looking at the Freakin’ Taj Mahal and I’m only 20 years old.

The Taj Mahal made me realize how fortunate I am. It confirmed that all of the hard work that I’ve been doing is really paying off. It made me really happy. So I stood beside the famous “Diana bench” where princess Diana took the infamous picture and I cried, for only about a minute though because people start looking at you funny.

I continued my walk removed my shoes walked up the staircase and stepped my first step on the marble. I was really at the Taj Mahal. The marble was cool and soft against my feet and it felt wonderful.

I ran my hand all the way around its walls, I traced the intricate mosaic work with my fingers, I felt its warmth against the palms of my hands. It took me an hour to walk all the way around it.
And then I sat. I sat on the marble and stared at the dome and the birds that romantically fluttered around it.

After that I found my peers and we took a bunch of really cheesy pictures on benches and watched the sunset which changed the magnificent white to a pale pink and then a soft blue.
As we walked away I kept looking back. It was sitting there in all its grandeur so I waved.

“good bye Taj Mahal, thank you.”
Sean laughed at me but it’s okay. I really am greatful to the Taj.

Good night Bombay...until next time.

To throw out my last very tired post I will have to say that my last day in Bombay was (one more time) AMAZING. I am sad that my time here is over but I know that it was only a taste. I have to come back to Bombay because there is so much more to experience here.

Today was a special Hindu celebration called “raksha bandhan.” It is a celebration of brothers and sisters. The sisters buy these little red bracelets and tie them to their brothers wrist in return the brother will buy his sister a small gift in appreciation. The exchange of these things symbolizes that the brother will forever protect his sister.

I think it’s a beautiful concept. The six boys on our trip were fortunate to receive at least two new sisters today. We woke up a little early so we could all join in the ceremonial exchange.
After this I went out on an emergency shopping run to Crawford Market because I realized that I needed another bag to pack the extra stuff that somehow magically appeared and now no longer fit into my luggage.

This was a mistake. The market was hot, very crowded, and is probably the smelliest place that I have been to in all of Bombay. Every health code violation that you can imagine in the US is being broken at this bazaar, which seems to sell everything (and probably does). One second you’re buying cheap bangles and jewelry and right around the next corner you’re in a fruit market purchasing mangos and just a few feet away is all the home or electronic needs imaginable.

After this hot and sticky run to the market, where I probably overpaid (by India standards) for a decent Diesel bag we ventured back to the hotel and pigged out at the buffet. And it was well worth it.

After resting, rejuvenating and packing, a few of us decided to trek back out into the city. I ended up buying the most delicious grilled corn I have ever had from a street vendor which cost me only 30 rupees (less than a dollar) and then we headed to the Taj Hotel to bask in the luxurious India that so many of its own citizens will never experience.

Upon leaving, Lauren and I were not yet ready to head back to the West End Hotel (because it was our last night) so we walked along marine drive for a bit.
Along Marine Drive there are these funny looking horse carriage rides (some nicer than others). We decided to see how much and in correct India fashion we had to haggle our price with not one but three different carriages:

“450 long ride!”

“450! We don’t want the long ride. How much short ride?”

“300.”

“how ‘bout 250?”

“no 250 too low”

And just as we were starting to get disappointed that we would be overcharged the third carriage driver yells out, “I take all four of you 200 rupees! Short ride!”

“Alright! 200!”

As we climbed on we could hear the other drivers arguing about what went wrong.

I was rooting for that guy anyway because his carriage had fun party neon lights on it. So we went on the short ride for two hundred rupees laughing the whole way because of how ridiculous we probably looked and took tons of pictures.

The ride only lasted 5 minutes and didn’t even go in a full circle. 200 rupees is about 4 bucks so between the four of us I think its okay that we put out the extra cash for getting swindled. An Indian native would NEVER pay that much for anything.

One thing about Bombay is that it does a really good job of providing escapes from all of the desolate conditions. Just like the Bollywood cinema movie days that families all over India enjoy this carriage ride is a sort of escape. You would think that something like this wouldn’t get much business except for silly western tourists but as we rode along we passed many Bombayiites along the way; whole families.

And I understood because those short five minutes was a moment that I can remember for a lifetime as my last night in Bombay, and you really do forget that the air is musty smelling and thick with smog.

Once again it was back to the hotel.
“Bombay Hospital, New Marine Lines, West End Hotel, meter, we want meter!”

Bombay Kicks Butt

I can’t say that the last few days in Bombay have been the most “amazing.” The initial shock and excitement of being in India has passed. We have been busy and all around the city; getting to know the taxi system, the conversion of rupees to dollars, haggling with street vendors, communicating, etc. all of it is actually becoming quite natural.

Just as you get comfortable though, India does a really good job of reminding you that you are in fact in India. And unless you have grown up or been here for quite a significant amount of time India will always bring you right back to reality that there are certain survival tactics and immunities you can’t quite pick up in just two weeks.

So far my group has had almost every travel nightmare hit with a great force: one fractured foot, several head colds, viral infections, ear infections, sick stomachs (“Delhi Belly”), acid reflux, bug bites, blisters, broken contacts, lost ATM cards, unexpected red light district excursions… I could probably keep going but I think you get the picture.

What I’m trying to say is that no matter how much you love this place or appreciate the culture or LOVE the food it will eventually kick you in the butt. And it’s a really hard kick.

I’m sitting in my hotel room reflecting on all that has happened in the last two weeks and I must admit I am very sad that I only had two weeks to try to discover this large city. But for a first shot I think I did what I could because any longer in this city might kill me.

My stomach is rumbling my nose is runny; my face is breaking out from the polluted air. I think it’s about time we move on and leave the rest of Bombay for discovery when I come back next time.

I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. After all, I was told that Bombay would be “an assault on my senses.” And I believed them completely I just don’t think I’ve been representing that assault in any of my previous posts.

I just didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression that traveling through this city was easy. Because it isn’t, I’ve been fascinated by everything but it’s been really hard work.

Tomorrow is my last day in Bombay so I will make the most of it. Then it’s off to Delhi and Agra to see the Taj Mahal.

I'm going to be on Indian TV waving a Pakistani Flag

The other day we went to the taping of a reality television show called “Lux Junoon Kuch Kar Dekha Hai." The format of the show is similar to that of the one and only American Idol. There is a host, three panels, and several contestants that get eliminated based upon votes that they receive (or do not receive) by fans.

The studio that we went to was quite the drive outside of the main city. (I can’t exactly remember the name right now. All I know is that I was on the bus in the middle of traffic watching the normal cabs, auto rickshaw, and pedestrian madness that I have grown accustomed to, I fell asleep and when I woke up we were driving on a quite highway looking at lush vibrant green jungle. It was beautiful.

It sort of reminded me of the flowing hills in Hawai’i; filled with all the flourishing tropical plants that completely carpet the land for miles. However, it was a different kind of green. It was just sort of brighter and lighter, most likely from all of the healthy monsoon rain. Whatever it was and wherever we were it was beautiful.

When we arrived on set (which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere) we pulled into a parking lot that had make shift sets all around. It made me laugh because it looked exactly like Universal Studios…except there were dirt roads, and we weren’t walking through the streets of New York City… we were walking through the old streets of Bombay; complete with a “marble” temple at the end.

We entered the studio and it was beautiful. It had a very Asian look with elaborate columns and thrones for the host and judges. The group of contestants and dancers were practicing the opening song as we sat down.

Setting up took forever but when they were finally ready to film they started with the audience. We were handed Indian and Pakistani flags to wave as we cheered for the show that we knew nothing about. Even though everything was in Hindi it was so much fun!

The reason for the flags was because the contestants on the show were both from different parts of India and Pakistan. It was sort of the new concept for this season that the two nations are uniting. The singers were all wearing their countries colors. The Indian contestant wearing the orange would buddy it up with the contestant from Pakistan who was wearing a green scarf.
I found it quite comical as we sat there; a group of 19 mostly white American students on an Indian television show waving a green Pakistani flag.

The taping was long, the music was fun. We saw two songs taped, one Punjab sounding song with the high pitched fast paced ringing and a popular Bollywood song “Om Shanti Om.”

We got a little tired having to hear them several times but as soon as the camera came on we suddenly had a burst of energy, at least enough to sing and dance. We were there all day and left before taping was over….got on the bus for the long trek home and traveled back to our little cozy West End Hotel, next to Bombay Hospital, on New Marine Lines.

So the show airs on NDTV Friday night at 8:30. I just hope that I will be on TV waving the Pakistani flag. It would be amazing.

Henna Hands

Last night I dipped my toes in the Arabian Sea

I am at the halfway mark of my trip and for the first time I think I was able to really recognize that I’m in India. Even though I’ve been saying it and I’ve been writing about it, last night I could see it.

My professor Sonora’s mother is a very powerful woman here in Mumbai. She set up an entire culturally fun-filled event (party!) for us at a hotel in Juhu Beach. Our group trekked down the street to Churchgate train station and jumped on the train that left at 1:04 PM. It was exciting for me, nerve wrecking for others.

The trains here in Bombay are the veins to the city. They are the life lines that keep it flowing while it transports people all over the state of Maharashtra. As we sat there for 45 minutes we saw many people come and go. People of all ages and all classes jumped on and off to get to where they needed to be.

After arriving at the train station we all jumped into little auto rickshaws. Auto rickshaws are this three wheeled little buggies that zip around the smaller areas of India. Just like the crazy cab drivers the auto rickshaws stop for nothing and are reckless to our standards, the only difference is you’re in a smaller vehicle and a lot more exposed… there are no doors. It reminded me of the Rodger Rabbit ride at Disneyland, where the cab jerks you around and makes you think you’re going to crash into a wall and suddenly you make a hard left and your safe.

After arriving at the hotel we had a lecture (because Sonora keeps reminding us that this is an ACADEMIC course) we spoke with independent film makers and learned that Bollywood is actually less than 20% of Indian Film industry. As independent filmmakers they really don’t appreciate the “campy” attitude of Bollywood movies (personally I love it but I understand why and artist of film would loathe them)

After the lecture and “high tea,” which is always around 5 o’clock, and a ritual which I have become a BIG fan of (Samosas and tea before dinner… its genius and SO yummy) we all changed into traditional Indian garb and the party began. We had dance performances and dinner was catered. Yummy fried cheese appetizers. A woman came to put henna on all of our hands and we danced the night away.

In the middle of all the fun a few of us decided to take a break and walk down to the beach. For the first time I let my toes touch the Arabian Sea. It was raining slightly and the wind was blowing and we were all laughing at the fact that we were in India and it was beautiful.

There are things on this trip that I know I will take back with me not only as lessons but things that I can apply to my way of living (hopefully)

There is one thing that I have fallen in love with the most about this culture and these amazing people, and it’s their Spirit.

Just the other day as I was sitting in traffic in a cab, there was a beggar woman sitting in a bright green tattered sari on the sidewalk with her child. With not even a roof over their head or a piece of nutrition on their bodies the two sat there and played. The mother was tossing her daughter into the air and kissing her with so much joy as if it did not matter where they were or who swore at them as they walked by. They had each other and they love each other and that was all that mattered at that very moment.

Throughout all of the hardships and the dark things that this culture struggles through every day they are still able to live and love with such compassion and sincerity. I think that’s why the colors are so vibrant. The clothing, the dancing, the music, the food; everything screams out with excitement and celebration.

It’s a celebration of the moment we are in right now; a celebration of life.

Traditional Art Influences Modern Phenomena

Saturday was our last day being hosted by the students and staff of Sophia College here in Mumbai. As a send off we were treated with a song, lunch, delicious chocolate cake, and an amazing dance performance by Professor Jeroo, who has shown us the most gracious hospitality while studying in her class.

The dance performance was the an ancient dance form called “Bharat.” This dance form is only one of many traditional dances that come from India. The dances were performed in temples to both celebrate and honor the many gods. Most of them are telling stories of old Indian epics and myths.

There are many stories to tell with this beautifully choreographed art that was almost forgotten. Jeroo performed stories from the Ramayana, which is one of the oldest Sanskrit epics in Indian history. The story tells tales of Rama and his wife Sita. A brief summary can be found here.

In the Ramayana dance facial expressions are key and very important to the art. Jeroo showed an array of emotions as we were watching the love story between Rama and Sita. She would flutter her eyelashes and flirt with the idea of falling in love. When there was fear or pain you would be able to see the expression in her face even if there was no movement of her body at the time.

As I was sitting and watching this ancient tradition being performed I couldn’t help but be reminded of all of the Bollywood movies that we have been attending. The exaggerated expression is one of the only reasons that I have been able to follow the plots and emotions of the Bollywood films. It is apparent that the ancient art and epic stories have influenced the modern phenomena of the cinema.

The elaborate dance numbers just reflect all the different styles that are seen throughout India. Not only is there a number of different types of dances but the costumes are just as ornate and detail-oriented as the dancing itself.

It was truly an experience watching such beloved tradition. And being able to see it permeate through time into modern art is really fascinating.

Adjust

Prior to coming to Bombay my professor had us read the book Maximum City by Suketu Mehta. The book is Suketu’s personal account of talking with drug lords and prostitutes. When I first began reading the book I remember thinking to myself, “why did Sonora make us read this? Am I really going to run into a gang lord of the black-market?”

The book is very exciting and a fairly quick read. I enjoyed it a lot. Even though my initial thought was that I would not be able to use it in my travels now that I have arrived in Bombay I am finding that this book was a gem to read. As we ride in the cabs and sit in traffic, as we walk through the streets, I can see Mehta’s descriptions coming to life.

I know I have not been able to update things in a while. The pace that we are moving at has been crazy. It is Friday (the end of my first week in Bombay) and our first official “free day.” Professor Jha has nothing planned. As a group we’ve decided to go see another bollywood movie that we have been seeing advertised everywhere and the commercials on TV haven’t been too bad either. The movie is called “Singh is King.”

As for the rest of the day I have all the time in the world to do whatever I want. Some of my peers have decided to hit up some more of the bazaars. Others are just aimlessly wondering the city. A few people are attending a lecture that my professor was asked to give at the Times of India… and what am I doing? Sitting in my hotel room and reflecting on this crazy week. As I sit here with my TV playing the constant stream of bollywood clips and commercials in Hindi, I can hear the constant horns in the not so distant streets outside of my window. The feeling is very surreal.

There is a passage in Maximum City where Mehta is explaining a car ad that caught his attention. It is under a sub chapter called “Adjust.” His explanation is the first thing I think of how I’m feeling. And it reminds me of the exciting cab rides that we’ve had to venture many times a day. It may be a little long and I will try to paraphrase and explain the context as much as I can.

“Bombay is a fast-paced, even hectic city, but it is not, in the end, a competitive city. Anyone who has a “reservation on and Indian train is familiar with this word: Adjust. You might be sitting there on your seat, the prescribed three people along it, and a fourth and a fifth person will loom over you and say, ‘psst…adjust.’ You move over. You adjust.

A recent magazine advertisement for an Ambassador car, the sturdy workhorse of the Indian roads, illustrates what I mean. The car, and unadorned version of a 1950’s Morris Oxford, is trundling along a rain drenched street. The ad copy doesn’t devote the usual lascivisious attention to leather seat covers, digital dashboards, electronic fuel injection, or the trim lines of the car’s design. The Ambassador is actively ugly but lovable in the way elephants are, with a jaunty visor and a wide grin. Instead, there is a snatch of dialougue from within the car. Three people can be seen squashed together in the front bench seat. A man crosses in ront of the ungainly pachyderm, holding a briefcase over his head to ward off the down pour.

‘arre…isn’t that joshi?’
‘yes. Let’s take him also.’
‘but we are so many.’
‘have a hear, we can always adjust.’


…It’s saying that the kind of people likely to drive an Ambassador will always make more room. It is really advocating a reduction of personal physical space and an expansion of the collective space. In a crowded city the citizens of Bombay have no option but to adjust.”

Traveling with a group of 22 (counting our professor and our travel advisor, Gina) I’ve found that we have all had to adjust. And at the end of this week that is the best word for the experience this week: Adjustment.

After recovering from jet lag, busy streets, being stared at, sights of death and poverty, extreme humidity. I can confidently say that I am (somewhat) adjusted.

*I've uploaded more pictures to my flickR as well.

Fellow writers

As part of my class my peers and I have an assigned blog that we have to submit to the Seattle U newspaper The Spectator. There have been four written already. One is from my roomie Jordan Belmont. She talks the initial shock that many of us faced when we first arrived. Melissa Heintz gave her thoughts about our trip to Ghandi's home.

This class is very diverse in majors. We run all across the communication department. Many of us are journalism majors but there are Strategic Communication (our fancy name for the Public relations track), mass communication as well as a philosophy major and a public affairs student. It would be good to check out a few of their blogs as well because we are all having very different accounts of this city.

Quick links

I am slowly working on this page. It is a little hard to update everything and upload pictures because I am paying for the Internet by the hour. I have to super multitask. Anyway, I've put some links in the panel on the left. My flickR site has a few updated photos from India as well as some older photos that I've taken.

I've also included my professor's blog. She is amazing so it is worth it to check it out now and again. She is also trying to write about our trip if you would like a different perspective.

It's dinner time so I must be going. Possible topics for next blog:
- Sophia Communication Program (amazing students, amazing professors, just amazing)
- Shopping @ Crawford Market: American girls=BIG target on forehead
- Taxi cab riding
- Cafe Leopold's and boy's from Holland

I feel like everyday is the equivalent to about a week. Our schedule is full and this city loves to throw in a lot of exciting obstacles for us to get through. But it's amazing.

Mumbai Madness

Gateway to India

I have been in the city of Bombay for three days now. The only word that I can think of right
now is insanity. I was told that this city would be an assault to my senses, or a punch in the gut... it has been. However, the sudden rush of stimulation is leaving me almost numb. It is as if some sort of adrenaline rush kicked in the moment the plane touched ground. Everything is coming at me so fast I don't think I have been able to process anything until right now.

On top of the jet lag and the culture shock my professor has had the group on a schedule that is really knocking me off of my feet. We have been on a tour and heard an amazing lecture, we've been walking and shopping and interviewing, we've been eating, and taking taxis from here to there... it's been a going, going, going.

With all that said I am not even going to attempt to go into much detail about the last few days. I will talk about the Bollywood movie we went to though. It was called "Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na."

The movie was in Hindi (no subtitles) I found it so much fun trying to figure out what was going on. Although most times it was quite obvious. The acting is reminiscent of Telenovela soap operas. Extremely over expressive so you always know how distraught people really are. Bollywood movies are also very long. It began at 10:30 and we did not get out of the theatre until after 1 o'clock. It is something you plan and make a day of; there is even an intermission.

There was a group of children at the theatre celebrating one of the little boys birthdays. It made me so happy to hear all of their little giggles throughout the movie. Bollywood is such a large industry over here and I understand why. Outside the walls of the theatre is a city that is dirty and ugly. These movies that are created to glamorize the streets and the landmarks. I almost did not recognize the streets that the scenes were taking place on; no street vendors, no dogs, no beggars, no trash. There was nothing that said Bombay. A day at a Bollywood movie is a simple escape to make sense of all the madness that is going on outside.

No matter how overwhelming this whole experience is right now I really love Mumbai. This city has sort of seeped into my veins and is flowing through my entire body. Even though it smells, and it's ugly and dirty I can't help but have a constant fascination with the way things work. I'd like to think of it as an organized chaos.

...and it's only day four.

*Today we are going to hear a lecture from an author/ journalist. It should be very interesting. He has been amazing and made forced change with his writing. (truly inspirational)

Hello Mumbai, I'm here!

26 hours later and I've made it. I don't think I can write much at all right now. It is about 3 AM here and my professor is having us up by 9 for breakfast and our first lecture at 10.

No time for rest. Flying into Mumbai was amazing and I will have to describe it later. Right now I am just so tired I can't even think about writing.

Just wanted to say that my travels were safe, although long... I can already tell it'll be well worth it!

Holy Cow!

I'M IN INDIA!

In transit...

I have finished the first leg of my travels. I left LAX this morning a little after 8:30.

Right now I'm sitting in the Detroit airport. The flight was about 3 1/2 hours. We had wind assistance so we arrived about 30 minutes early (which was nice) I have this problem where I can't sleep on airplanes... so it super sucks to have to sit the entire time trying to dose off with not much success.

I was shocked when I got on the flight. I haven't been in a plane since pre-gas price spike. I'm not sure about all of the airlines but Northwest was charging for everything! No more complimentary peanuts on a 4 hour flight. They were selling a small can of Pringles for $7 and the juice and soda varied between $3-5... so I just had water. Northwest is now also charging $50 for a second checked bag. All of these extra charges make it very hard to travel.

It is about 5:00 PM local time. My connection leaves at 7. Right now I'm going to get a bite to eat and try to prepare myself for my second jump which takes me across the Atlantic to Amsterdam. From there I jump on one last plane to arrive in India. I calculated the time. I won't arrive until about 9:30 AM Los Angeles time. So that means I will be traveling for an entire day.

As for how I am feeling right now: a little tired. I can't wait to arrive in Mumbai. India awaits and I'm trying to get there as fast as I can!

How exciting it is to travel the world!