India Report 1

So here we are in Mumbai (the former Bombay), exhausted... just got here and already been an exciting trip.

The flight(S) were long, boring, turbulent and uneventful. I break 2 long-lasting streaks of mine... the "can not sleep" streak and the "sucky movie" streak, the latter being broken by screenings of "Driving Miss Daisy" and "Rounders". Nonetheless I was bored enough to read two books, one on comlex biochemistry (Darwin's Black Box). Ah well. Our final flight, Delhi to Mumbai, was by "Spicejet", a family-owned flying company. We took a shuttle bus to the terminal in the middle of the night, driven by a Saddam Hussein look alike, complete with bristling mustache and ancient machine gun. (All the guards have huge mustaches, it seems, but they are good-natured and helpful.) My mom thought we were getting kidnapped, especially when the shuttle bus passed through two heavy gates manned by armed guards. The airport really does look like a secret millitary base- albiet with wussier planes- at night.

Spice Jet's luggage x-ray machine is in the middle of friggin' nowhere. You put your luggage through one end, then open it up for their satisfaction, then pick it up and carry it to boarding. The flight times are indicated in dry-erase marker on a white board. I was quite relieved when we got onto an actual airplane. I was half-expecting a giant catapult or something.

Finally we had to pick up my sister, who was flying in from South Africa, before finding accomodation. We are spending the night at a Hotel called "the Palace Hotel", and by "palace" I mean "prison." Prisoners would riot if they were locked in cells as small, or had celings as low, as ours. It is run by a mob of passport-obsessed Indians (they had to take ours to photocopy them twice) who entertain themselves by sweeping, so the place is immaculately clean. We ordered in some Indian food, and have yet to vomit. (Apparently everyone gets sick from eating the food here.)

We've spent the day touring Mombai, walking the streets and taking the taxis to various "famous" locations. The streets of India are a varitable cacophany of sight and smell. Men wear (almost invariably) dress pants and button up shirts, but the brightly colored Saris and traditonal garments of the women are something to behold, shining bright against the filthy backgrounds. The stench is palpable from the streets- a pungent mix of known odors (pee, poo, sweat, fish, cows and spices) and unknown ones. It mixes with a humid, sticky smog, to create a truly unique experience. The streets are incredibly diverse- the wealthy walk by the shacks of the poor. People sl;eep wherever it suits them, as do dogs, which otherwise laze the sidewalks between playing children who pay them no heed. Even cows wander around aimlessly. Men, curiously enough, walk arm-on-shoulders and hand-in-hand everywhere. In Indian culture this apparently means friendship, not homosexuality, but it takes some getting used to, especially when a man-man "couple" walks by a loving heterosexual couple who are also holding hands.

In some places the blaring constrasts are downright sickening. We crossed the street from India Gate, shaking off the prying hands of a legless beggar boy crawling around on padded knee-stumps, and strode into the most opulent of hotels. Rich and poor, fat and starving, so close together.

Transport is by way of taxis, and it's kind of fun. The taxis compete for travellers, of course, and are not above a little bald-faced lying to get you into theirs. However, the drivers are good-natured and (in comparison to South Africa) unarmed, so it's pretty safe. The roads are something else though- narrow free for alls, with people and animals jockying with drivers for space. Drivers lay on the horn constantly, not with malice, but as way of warning: "I'm coming through!" It seems to double nicely as a turn signal also. They take great pleasure of squeezing in between other vehicles, even when it offers no actual speed advantage. It didnt' help that my mom began to squeal in fear, convincing the driver to try even harder with a grin on his face.

So, ya, India's been good. Lots to see and we haven't actually done anything. Tomorrow afternoon we take a 24 hour train ride- something I am NOT looking forward to. I am out of books and I hope I can sleep most of the way. My mother and sister are quite exhausted, and am I, and I hope to eat a spicy Indian supper (man Indian food rocks) and have a long, blisfull sleep in my cell.

Good night.