Welcome to India

April 13-18, 2008

Mumbai, India

(Matt)

India is fantastic, and it can be completely infuriating at the same time. The people can be very warm and welcoming and can be extremely rude and make you want to rip your hair out. Things can go smoothly sometimes, but can just as easily go as badly as you can imagine it being able to go. India is certainly not for everyone....if you have problems with road rage in the U.S.A., you probably do not want to come here. But I think it is easily one of the best places that I have ever traveled.

First, the food is unreal. I think Indian food is probably the best food in the world, beating out the likes of Mexico, Thailand, and even Italy. And where else can you travel that you have an excuse to eat wonderful spicy Indian food every meal of the day, every day of the week for just a few dollars a meal for 2 hungry people? If you don't love Indian food, you probably do not want to come here. I am really enjoying the food here in Bombay. We have literally not eaten at a single restaurant that wasn't fantastic, and it is SUPER cheap. Our large meals have ranged from $2 to $8 for both of us to get stuffed on the best Indian food that I have ever eaten. We are strictly vegetarian here, but that is not a problem, as most restaurants are also. My favorite dishes right now are Paneer Tikka Masala, Paneer Kolhapuri, and Paneer Kofta, which are all made with kind of chewy white cheese (paneer) that provides one of the only sources of protein that we are getting other than eggs at breakfast, which are usually slimy and gross. Amber's favorite dish, which she eats at least once a day (and sometimes twice), is Palak Paneer--the same white cheese in creamy spinach sauce. I think I could only eat Indian for the rest of my life....it is soooo good. Mealtimes are always happy times.

Second, the culture of India is so complex and diverse that I never get tired of seeing new manifestations of it, such as fascinating religious ceremonies, Hindu temples, Jain temples, Catholic churches, mosques, Buddhist temples, shrines and festivals, decorated cows with headdresses and painted horns, and the list goes on and on. As you travel down any street, through any alleyway, down any hallway of any building, anywhere in any city in India you will see little unassuming altars with offerings of various kinds and incense burning in them. They are not put there to be ostentatious but only as a demonstration of faith, and faith is strong in all of the represented religions in India. Often times, the focus in the modern world is the dark side of fanatical religion that seeks to fight against all opposing religious views, but in India there is a surprising amount of religious toleration for such a diverse group of worshipers. At religious sites that were solely created for worshippers of one religion, Indian tourists who are obviously from one of the other religions still tour the sites and appreciate the sites for what they provide artistically and historically.

Third, India is wild and unpredictable, and that makes it really exciting, though exhausting. For example, as we walked through the bazaars north of the Fort area in Bombay, I was immediately transported to a different world. It was pure madness, like nothing you will see anywhere else on the planet. As discussed in previous blog entries, I love to watch the trade and commerce taking place in local markets. Well the Bombay bazaars, including the neighborhoods around them, are markets on steroids....times a thousand. It is fascinating and exciting. But like everything here, it is tiring and nerve-racking. The heat, about 95 degrees Fahrenheit, can make the madness seem harder than it really is.

Fourth, and this is harder to explain as a positive aspect of travel here, I love that India can be infuriating and emotionally draining. I love that it challenges many instincts and socialized conceptualizations of politeness instilled in the West. Some of the hardest adjustments to Indian culture, at least initially, are the body language and verbal communication, which are both entirely different from anywhere I have been.

Most Westerners would consider a lot of ordinary Indian communication to be abrupt and argumentative, while it may not be intended that way at all. Initially, we found the citizens of Bombay very confrontational and even aggressive, but I think we were being overly sensitive to a common way that business is performed in India. Deals seem to begin and end with a lot of yelling and arm waiving, but I've noticed that there is some grinning during the yelling. We don't speak any of the languages and don't know what they are saying, but I think the yelling is just a signal that a transaction is being performed or is about to be performed. One welcomed change in Bombay is that the waiters at restaurants are very polite and attentive, more so than anywhere else we have been on this trip until now. The waiters in Argentina, as a prominent example, were ubiquitously rude and could not be asked to take our orders or bring us our food, or our checks, or our change. It was a continual problem in all of South American really, except in Uruguay, where the waiters were great.

While India is great, it is not perfect. There are clear problems for travelers, such as clever scams and petty theft. One problem I did not notice as a solo male backpacker is the issue of staring men. This is annoying to me, but is REALLY annoying to Amber. There is apparently no social convention in India against long, intense, turn-your-body-all-the-way-around-multiple-times-while-you-are-walking-down-the-street gawking and ogling at women. It is the minority of people who do it, but when it's happening so much, it doesn't feel like it. Males from about 10 to 80 will stop whatever they were doing and stare, like unblinking statues, at Amber intensely (and even predatorily) for 10, 20, 30 minutes at a time, like she was a giraffe or a Martian. If there are men in a group, which is common for unmarried males, one alerts the others so that they can all turn in unison to stare and giggle...and even meow like a cat, which is very mature.

(Amber)

I have found that I don't at all mind women and children staring. The children like my eyes and will smile if I look up. They are sweet and just interested in seeing someone new. The women will look away if I look up. The only stares that I could totally do without are the ones coming from men....and they're frequent. Any western woman who has traveled here can definitely attest to it. Our book says to get a thick skin about it and don't meet their gaze. Also says that dark sunglasses can help, so I wear a lot of those. Amazing how many starers seem to have a radar...they can sense me coming from a mile away and get pumped to stare.

(Matt)

But I think all of these issues, while irritating or frustrating, make you a better traveler overall, and it is all worth it in the end because the country has so much more to offer than the annoyances. Most cultural differences we can learn from and appreciate as tourists, and five days in Bombay got our two months in India off to a great start because no city better exemplifies the complexity of the statement "India is fantastic, but it can be completely infuriating at the same time" than Mumbai, formerly known as Bombay...or Bollywood, since this is the place where those distinctive films are made.

On our first full day in Bombay (Mumbai), we went on a great walking tour recommended by our guidebook that began at the Gateway of India, a British colonial monument opened in 1924, just 24 years prior to the British closing up shop and having its last regiment depart ceremoniously from the same archway. Since I was last at the Gateway of India in 2001, there was a car bomb there on August 25, 2003. I don't know if that led to the current state of reconstruction, but the Gateway has looked much better.

The walking tour then passes other impressive colonial buildings, including the Royal Bombay Yacht Club and the building formerly known Prince of Wales Museum, and continues past Town Hall, the High Court, and the University of Mumbai, all beautiful buildings. We then watched some cricket, which is huge here like nowhere else, at the Oval Maidan across from the University and took refuge from the blazing sun to have a drink at a restaurant next to the Art Deco Eros Cinema.

From there we headed to the Mumbai bazaars, beginning with the Crawford Market, which has a single large roof and houses many spices and other commonly traded items. We picked up a good number of aggressive touts there. So after one pass (or less) through Crawford Market, we basically fled to the bizarre that was going on in the streets, which was crowded, wild, and colorful. Virtually everything you can imagine was being bought and sold in the bizarre, and we got some really good pictures there. We then went into the first restaurant we saw there and paid a little extra (like $2) to sit upstairs in the A/C. A lot of restaurants in Mumbai have two menus, a downstairs (no A/C) menu and an upstairs (with A/C) menu. Usually we sit downstairs, but this day was so hot that I happily paid extra. Our lunch was about $5 even with the A/C.

Then we went back out into the bizarre and walked around for at least an hour more before walking to the train station formerly known as Victoria Terminus, which was completed in 1887 and looks similar to a beautiful Gothic cathedral.

On our next full day in Mumbai, we finally gave in and took a taxi tour of the city, which had been pitched to us about 20 times per day since we arrived. It turned out to be very nice, though we opted for the cheaper non-A/C taxi. The tour started with some of the same sights we had seen the day before on our walking tour, then it headed to a laundry company where up to 500 people live and work doing large-scale laundry for mostly hospitals and hotels around the city. I came here in 2001, and it fascinating. We watched the male clothes washers beat each garment violently against a concrete washtub while others then hung them out to dry. Once done, the laundry is delivered either on a bicycle for small loads, or in a truck for large ones. This requires a great deal of organization, and I truly have no idea how they keep track of everything. Our towels at our hotel are certainly washed there, and they seem clean, though they are kind of stiff and crunchy.

We then visited a small fishing community right in the middle of Mumbai, population ~18 million. The fishermen go out everyday on their handmade vessels, flying colorful orange and blue banners, no more than 15 kilometers away from shore to fish with nets that they perpetually mend along the shore. The fishermen return and sell their fish in their village every afternoon and evening.

We then toured Gandhi's house, which has been converted into a Gandhi museum. Gandhi is a huge figure here. All Rupee notes have a picture of Gandhi on them, much like the Thai Baht has a picture of the King of Thailand.

We also toured a Jain Temple, the Mumbai Hanging Gardens, where local lovebirds often court, and viewed the Tower of Silence, where Parsis are laid to rest by allowing vultures and other birds of prey to first pick the dead's bones dry....We didn't actually get to see that occurring, but we saw the tower where they are laid for the "cleansing" process.

After the driving tour, we had our driver leave us at Chowpatty Beach, which is a nice respite from the craziness of the city, though it lies directly in the middle of Mumbai. We walked along the beach and watched the locals hangout before returning to Cobala for a wonderful dinner.

On our last day, we took a boat out to Elephanta Island, about an hour boat ride from the Gateway to India, which has amazing caves--they are actually intricately designed temples, but they are referred to as caves--carved directly into a stone hill on the island with nothing more than a hammer and chisel. This was very cool and got me excited to visit Ajanta and Ellora, which are similar to Elephanta Island in that they are temples carved into a mountain, though Ajanta and Ellora (as it turns out) are much larger and more impressive.

Finally, we spent part of a day at the post office mailing a package, which sounds boring. But in India this is an adventure worth describing in detail. The following steps were required to mail a small parcel from the main post office in Bombay, one of the largest cities in the world and a commercial center for India:

We first arrived at the post office, a large building that looks much like a gothic cathedral and is next to the similarly styled building formerly known as the Victoria Terminus, and we began to walk into what appeared to be the open front door. We were yelled at by a security guard and motioned to go into another similarly positioned open door that must have been the real front door. Inside we talked to an employee who told us to leave the post office and to go back out to the street to have our parcel, which was a mask from Tanzania and a cookbook from Thailand in a plastic bag, “stitched up,” a requirement for all parcels.

We walked out to the street and were immediately intercepted by a man who introduced himself as a stitcher. Having sent a package from India in 2001, I recognized the canvas on the ground next to his stool as the proper packaging material for India. The tools of his trade also included a knife, about ten needles, and twine thread in a leather bag. So we hired him for $1.50 to stitch up our mask and cookbook to make its way overseas on a very long journey. He meticulously measured and trimmed the canvass around our goods, and finally stitched it up. The man looked, like many here, completely destitute, performing his trade on the streets where he probably slept, but in the middle of measuring the canvas, his new mobile phone rang. He calmly took it out of his shirt pocket and continued his work as he talked. Amber thought that was very funny. Stitching must be more lucrative than it looks. After he was done and paid, he instructed us (quite correctly it turns out) to take the package to the backside of the main post office for mailing.

We walked around the entire block to the “backside” of the post office grounds, being entirely surrounded by a tall rot iron fence, and found ourselves walking through a homeless encampment that used the fence as the back wall of their houses. Several times while walking down the sidewalk in Bombay, we have found ourselves walking through someone’s home like this. We’ve looked down and noticed a person sleeping on a makeshift bed by our feet, with their few possessions scattered around us, and a tarp stretched overhead. As quickly as possible, we remove ourselves from their homes, but it is a troubling situation each time it happens. The backside of the post office property, which still faced a street, was a neighborhood of people living in tarp-covered homes along the back fence of the post office. They even had goats and chicken tied up to the fence and grazing on the government property. So we decided that we need to go back to the entrance of the post office and ask again, which we did.

On our way back we passed an entrance to the side of the post office, where some people set off a huge string of firecrackers that left a huge billowing cloud of smoke. Ears ringing, we pressed on past the touts, who noticed that we were lost like a vulture spots a dying wildebeest. We arrived back at the front of the post office, where (after asking three people) an employee informed us that we needed to walk back past the fireworks, onto the post office grounds and enter a second building to mail parcels. In other words, we needed to go to the “backside” of the first building, not the whole post office grounds.

When we got to the second building, the smoke had cleared and we found that the cause of the fireworks there was a religious festival going on between the two post office buildings. As directed, we walked up to the third floor of the second building.

Arriving on the third floor we found wall to wall stitched up parcels and three less-than-energetic employees working the front counter. After getting one of them to acknowledge that we were there, he waved us to the adjoining room with his head.

When we walked into the adjoining room, a dark and dingy, hot and disorderly mess, we were directed around the room to a few of the wrong people until finally we arrived at the head customs agent’s desk. He was busy and did not immediately offer any advice about what we should do. Finally, in an exasperated manner, he said that we needed to take out the contents of our parcel…that had just been stitched up…and to fill out a form on carbon paper. Throughout this procedure, we remained deferent and tried to look eager to please. So we ripped open the stitched up package and dumped out the contents for inspection and filled out the form. His inspection took place contemporaneously with several other inspections he was overseeing at the same time. Those included medication. So ours passed without much trouble.

He then sent us to a second lady who opened up a large ledger book, very slowly flipped around for a while, and finally placed her stamp on the form that we had filled out.

We were then sent to the “re-stitcher,” whose job was to restitch the package that I just repacked, and to write the address on the canvas with a black marker. He was actually in a serious yelling match with another employee about possession of that black marker when I first walked over. After the canvas parcel was addressed, the re-stitcher ask for 6 rupees and the method of mailing. We said that we wanted it to go the cheapest and slowest way. So he wrote “Sea” above the address with the marker.

We were then sent to the “waxer,” the most interesting person in the chain, in my opinion, whose job is to place hot wax, cooked up in a cauldron, on all the knots and corners of the twine stitching and to place official seals into the wax before it dries. He first refused to do his job, however, until we returned to the customs agent and got his signature on the re-stitched package.

After this, we were sent to the first room to weigh and pay, but we could not get the attention of any of the employees behind the desk, who sat talking and staring at the floor. Amber got their attention, and the package was accepted for mailing. Mailing the parcel in an almost empty post office took almost 2 hours.

The thing about India is that you always have to know the secret handshake, no matter what you are doing. I now know how to mail a package in Bombay. Buying a train ticket is the same way. Once you do it, you know how to do it, but as a traveler who only needs to do things once in each city, usually, this can be a frustrating place to get things done.

(Amber)

India is not only the world's second most populated country with more than 1 billion people, it is also considered to be a sub-continent because of its massive size, and it's a legend among travelers.

It's called the land of contrasts...home to the sublime and the squalid....endless plains, amazing beaches, laguna backwaters, hills, and the Himalayas...all living side by side.

Our book says that India is a place where you have to expect the unexpected. It also reminds you that your trip is going to be what you make of it. There's not a more perfect place on Earth to hone your patience, ponder mankind, learn about ancient religions, and endlessly expand your comfort zone and your world experiences. India has sort of a status all its own as far as travel destinations go....and will no doubt be one of the most life-changing legs of our journey. One thing that India has never been called? Boring.

Here are a few facts about India...just to set the stage.

The Indus Valley, which straddles the Pakistan and India border, is the cradle of civilization on the subcontinent. By 2500 B.C. large cities were established and flourished for more than 1000 years.

India was, at different points in history, colonized by both England and Portugal. Vestiges of colonial rule include some great architecture, a populace who speaks English quite well, and a good deal of poverty. The situation is complex. But for example, when the British started importing cheap goods to India, it destroyed many livelihoods. The British also had unfair housing practices, language mandates, and tax schemes that all ultimately hurt many Indians. In 1948, the British Raj left India, something that Gandhi among many others, fought endlessly to see happen.

When the British pulled out, the violence between Muslims and Hindus, a battle many of hundreds of years in the making, reached a crescendo. Eventually, the country would split into three. The Muslims would have Pakistan and East Pakistan (now Bangladesh), and the Hindus would have India. Obviously, many people fled their homes, jobs, and even lost their lives in this split and ensuing conflict. It's a struggle that continues to this day, especially in the Kashmir region, and has caused far more than its share of heartache and death.

Indians are devoutly religious. You see people seeking blessings from the Gods, taking time out for prayer, burning spices and incense as offerings, visiting shrines.....Religious beliefs permeate every aspect of life here, and it's palpable from the minute you arrive. Cows are sacred to most, and they walk through the streets on their own....through traffic and busy markets.

Family is very important to Indians. Rumor has it that many can't make heads or tails of 30 somethings without children. That's okay. We can handle it.

Indians are really proud of India. They revel in their soccer, software, and Bollywood flicks to name a few.

Most of the women and little girls wear only beautiful saris and pant suits that have a long, flowing shirt, scarf, and matching pants. Almost without exception, they all wear these things along with beautiful jewelry. They are beautiful. They no doubt think western women are slobs. And to be honest, we are. I was logging into this and saw the photo of myself of the homepage (which was taken two days before my wedding so had the added bonus of spray tan and recent highlights), and I almost didn't know who it was. I, at the moment, don't even resemble the Amber-of-old. I am pretty worn out looking. Anyway, the fabrics here are incredible. Even in the poorest markets, the fabrics are lovely.

The caste system still holds considerable power, although many argue that it's much weakened. The system is a Hindu belief that people are born into certain social stratas. There are four, which range from Brahmin at the top to Shudra at the bottom. Below even the Shudra are the Dalits, or Untouchables. A Gandhi quote that I adore is..."All people are born equal and free." The caste system is a tenet that Gandhi fought vigorously to end, because it has the effect of keeping some people so dreadfully poor and abused while others flourish as a right of birth.

After South Africa, India has the highest number of HIV cases in the world. An estimated 5.1 million people in India are HIV+.

Human rights groups believe that India has the highest rate of child laborers in the world, with an estimated 80-115 million being used.

An estimated 350 to 400 million people live in poverty here, which is one of the world's highest concentrations. About 35% of Indians live on less than $1 per day. Major causes include illiteracy and population growth that vastly exceeds economic growth. Of course, the situation is so complex that it can't be boiled down to any simple factors.

82% of Indians are Hindu, 12% are Muslim, and 2.3% are Christian.

India has about 90,000 species of fauna, one of the richest in the world.

The food here is world-famous. Turmeric and coriander seeds spice most of the foods, and cumin in hot oil is the starter for most curries. It is spicy, cheap, and endlessly delicious.

So that is a country with thousands of years of history and one billion people in a nutshell. It in no way scratches the surface But that's going to be the theme of this entire blog and no doubt of our short weeks here. Can't possibly scratch the surface.

So after anticipating the Indian leg of the trip for so long, we finally arrived. We stepped off of the plane at about 11pm on a Sunday night. We were here, and I was excited to see what all the buzz was about.

The airport was fine, although very basic for a city of this size. We went to a desk and figured out which hotel we would head to and then bought a prepaid ticket for a taxi. Easy enough.

When we walked out into the throngs of people on the streets, a man ran up to us, yelled something in some language that we'd never heard, grabbed the ticket and ran off. We were off to a good start!

We had no idea what had just happened, so we stood there and watched the madness...which included a woman screaming that someone had run up and stolen her prepaid cab ticket...wondering if our ticket and that angry man would reappear.

Eventually, the screaming man came back and started yelling at us again and flailing his arms around. I snapped back at him, which I rarely do. He had no idea what I said, but it somehow quieted him down but only for a second. He angrily motioned for us to follow him, and we walked down a long alleyway to a waiting cab. Matt and I looked at each other and laughed about our welcome scene. The cabs were all small, old cars with no AC. There are several photos of them throughout the link. They are really cool. My bag went in the trunk, Matt's went on top of the car, the man yelled at us again, and we were off.

The drive from the airport to our area of town was surreal. Mumbai is home to more than 18 million Indians, and the drive was long.

I was prepared...or thought I was. But I wasn't. Matt had told me about the poverty. I had read about the poverty, seen shows about it...I've seen poverty all over the world. Matt and I just came from Africa. We've been to the Far East, Central and South America, Africa...we've seen families living in boxes and surviving only on fish that they could catch...if they caught any at all. So why was this different? I don't know, but it was.

The scene for most of the drive was of hundreds and hundreds of people sleeping in the streets, on the sidewalks, on the hills surrounding overpasses. Some had mattresses. Some had little tarps. Some even had built makeshift homes from found wood and tin and anything else that might keep out rain and indicate a barrier between them and the world..a little patch that was theirs. And many...so many...slept right on the sidewalk...and even on the street itself. With traffic whizzing by. Men, women, and children. For miles and miles. And even though I've seen this level of poverty many times, I had never seen it on this scale. And when we got out of the cab, after another fiery altercation with our driver who tried to let us out at 1am before we were at the hotel, my legs were shaking. I have never been so affected by anything on the road. I knew immediately that I would leave India a changed person. And I also knew that it would be a change for the better....although I wasn't sure how.

We checked into the Causeway Hotel in Colaba, which is the neighborhood around the Gateway to India. The room, which is too expensive, is fine. It's basic and the bathroom is actually vile, but it's quiet and has AC. The vibe is odd though. You have to walk up a few flights of stairs to get there, and then the reception area is dark and full of men on staff who I think are paid to stare, although they will get you TP or water if you ask. They all seem nice. The only word I can think of is awkward. So awkward that it has to be a cultural difference. Oh well. I realized this morning, as I was up there checking email at a computer in the middle of the room and just being stared at in silence, that I've actually gotten comfortable being uncomfortable. Personal change #1. Done.

We slept like rocks, although I dreamed all night that I was asleep on the hill of an overpass...trying to stay under the tarp...and trying to protect the baby I dreamed that I adopted in Africa, his name was Rama, from getting in the street. So I actually woke up pretty exhausted and with a sore hip. I guess sleeping on a hill does that.

We got up and started our first full day. We spent the day in our neighborhood walking. First rattle out of the box, a parade passed with music, dressed up cows, adorable children who were so excited to wave to us, and decorated carriages. Women danced in the street burning candles that released colorful smoke. It was awesome. We also visited the Gateway to India and then walked through the colorful and awesome Colaba market.

The reception of the locals was almost entirely positive. Only a very few people could have done without us peering into their worlds. Many were equally interested in getting a glimpse of us, so it was reciprocal for sure. We walked through shanty neighborhoods where fisherman live, markets (where people work and many also sleep...stepping on and around peoples beds is required), and the main street (Colaba Causeway) with amazing little restaurants and people hawking goods to tourists. A dog in the market, who I guess is racist, hated me and went nuts like he was about to attack. He did it twice. Didn't care about any of the locals or Matt, but he hated me. That was the only scrape we had. We ended the night at the market watching women, in an open-air pavilion, chopping and selling the day's fish catch. The day was a great introduction to India.

The next day, we took ourselves on a walking tour. We walked for about six hours and ended up at the Crawford Market, which was an insane as any market I've ever been to. So many people, so much activity, so many things being sold. Your day on a walking tour and at this market is a success if you don't get run over. Matt came dreadfully close when a local bus clipped him. But I'm happy to report, he jumped to safety, and the day was saved.

Food has been a highlight. We stuff ourselves on the most amazing Indian food, which my sister points out I should now just call food, for about $4 total. We have always loved Indian food. If you're one of the unfortunate few who doesn't like it, I would street clear of South Asia. You'll be in trouble. The menu, and we are now entirely vegetarian (except for the Maharaja Mac), has included the following:

palak paneer (spicy creamed spinach with curd cheese - I eat this at least once a day)

veggie korma (veggies and cheese in a creamy korma sauce)

thali (daily special - usually a chapati, soup, several sauces, and a sweet)

dosa (a crepe filled with spicy veggies and cheese...and various other things)

milk cake (no idea, but it was good)

naan (Indian grilled flat bread)

ice cream

chapati (Indian pancake type thing - fried in a skillet - great and cheap - ate lts in Africa too)

paneer tikka masala (curd cheese in spicy curry)

paneer kurma (curd cheese in spicy curry...but way different than tikka masala!)

basundi (cold, sweet soup that's yellow with what looks like pieces of egg in it)

veggie masala (veggies in an even different spicy sauce...ok, this isn't working)

various other tasty dishes that I can't name

seera (like a sweet cream of wheat with corn and raisins that's baked)

paneer kolhapuri (Matt's favorite so far - very very spicy)

AND a Chicken Maharaja Mac (description below)

Drinks have been chai (made with black tea, milk and sugar and sometimes ginger and cinnamon...and in no way related to the sweet mess that Starbucks serves), coffee, and coke.

So for my birthday, I decided I wanted McDonalds. I know....sad but true. I thought it would be nice to get some meat before we head south and don't have meat for at least six weeks. McDonalds is only available rarely and only in the biggest cities. And unless you've been on the road and away from anything familiar, you really can't imagine the pull...the transfats just pull you in like a vacuum on the rare occasion they're within your grasp. So, I told Matt, much to his dismay, that I wanted McDonalds for my big 32.

"If you chase it with fries, it's ok." Red flag. But that's what I heard myself telling Matt as I ate the Chicken Maharaja Mac for my bday. You see...McDonalds in India doesn't serve beef. Your choices are the following: Filet o Fish, Chicken Maharaja Mac, or Paneer Masala Wrap. I hoped that my big bday splurge would be a Big Mac with grilled chicken in the place of the beef. We've had so little meat in the last several weeks that my mouth watered at the thought. But it was instead...two all spicy chicken meatloaf type patties, special curry sauce, lettuce, cheese, no pickles, onions, tomatoes on a sesame seed bun. It actually tasted just like Indian food. And this was my one non-Indian meal. So back to real Indian food for the long haul...which is probably just as well, because when we leave Bombay, we will leave the Chicken Maharaja and all other "American" food in the dust.

Random thoughts....

Internet has been really difficult to find in Mumbai. And where we've found it, it's been exceedingly slow. That's a huge surprise to both of us. We have no idea how we'll upload photos. I thought this was the IT capitol of the world?

All over the streets, there are sugar cane juice stands that look just like the one in Zanzibar. I'm sure the Indian traders brought the craft to the island. It costs about 6 rupees, which is a little more than 10 cents.

And if I had a nickle per stare, I could drink sugar cane juice....all day...every day....for the rest of my life.

When we took the cooking class in Bangkok, another couple about our age from Montreal, also took it. They had just come from India. In one of their many "India is awesome and insane" tales, they told us the following hilarious story. They were sitting on a curb eating something from a stall when a man came up to them and handed them a book. He was an ear cleaner, and the book was full of testimonials about how clean he really gets your ears. Only in India. His tools included one Q tip and one cotton ball. We cracked up at this. Well on my bday, I saw a man on the curb....cleaning another man's ears. A job is a job I guess. And who knows? After two months here, maybe a good street ear cleaning will be in order. Never can tell.

Men here hold hands, with fingers interlocked, and walk with their arms around each other all the time. Men and women don't show much affection in public, but men (of all ages) do all the time.

Babies, which are carried in many Latin American countries in slings until they are at least a few years old, walk here. From the time a baby takes her first steps, she's navigating the crazily crowded city streets on her own behind her family. It's amazing to watch how independent kids can really be....they juke, weave in an out.....little ones are actually better walkers than we give them credit for.

When we were walking around the city, a man lunged toward me to touch my feet. I jumped as if fireworks had been thrown in my path. foot touching is a sign of respect here. But if you're not prepared, it can be startling too. Lucky I'm nimble...or his fingers would have been toast.

We are pretty consistently approached and touched and followed by beggars. It's something you really have to come to terms with in your head here. Some are very physically handicapped, and we tend to give a lot to those. Yesterday, a five year old boy holding a baby that couldn't have been more than a few days old, dodged traffic at the light to beg at open car windows. People born with clubbed feet, a condition easily repaired in the US, are often relegated to walking on their hands and begging. It's really really sad and just part of life...and travel...here. We give some and are very firm with others to stop touching us and go away. Every time is different, and so is our response.

Indians love the game Cricket. We've seen it all over town and watched part of a game at the Oval Maiden court. I think after about 2 minutes, it's like watching paint dry.

In a nutshell, after just over a week here....it is incredible and difficult here. Heart warming and maddening. I think it would be very difficult for anyone who hasn't done hard travel before. Since my first trip into the developing world in 1999, Matt and I have been to more than 20 countries. I've never been affected like I was here stepping off the plane in Mumbai. It's all epic. It's huge, it's steeped in more religion than just about any place I've been, it's so crowded, it's so hot, it's loud, it's alive, it's floundering, and it's thriving. And you see all of that between your cab and the hotel.

The women all dress beautifully, so many people have been kind to us an genuinely excited to have us here appreciating their country's heritage, religion permeates each and every thing, it's dirt cheap, the clothes are amazing, the food is the best I've ever had (but you have to love Indian food), the children love us and get so excited to practice their few English words or wave or look at my eyes, and some of the historic sights we've seen top the all-time best list. It's also incredibly dirty. You cannot come here expecting clean streets, water, hills, alleys. It's filthy. You have to come for something beyond sterility. If sterility is what you want, steer clear. Check out Switzerland. It also has bone crushing poverty that looks to me like what I've seen in images of refugee camps in Darfur with people sleeping in makeshift tents and on the streets and floors of railway stations....right alongside India's middle and upper classes who have apartments which apparently go for as much as apartments in some major American cities. I understand now what all of the intrigue is about.

I love it here. I love that my head is spinning and that I can't figure out how to in any way wrap it up. I've seen some wealth, fancy stores and hotels, and many items of comfort, which I didn't see in Tanzania....and I've also seen poverty like I've never seen before. Beautiful clothes, spicy and incredible food, traffic that I can't believe anyone can navigate, a central train station that serves more than two million people every day, people living on and around trash heaps, grand colonial architecture that's often crumbling but still beautiful, and people...more people than you can imagine. I am excited about the next eight weeks and can't wait to see what beautiful insanity hides around the corner, even if it's the foot toucher or the ear cleaner. I'm really ready now. Or am I?

For photos, click here: http://share.shutterfly.com /action/welcome?sid=8AatmbZk0Zt FHZ4