Cultural Immersion

There are obviously many differences being in India, and inevitably you adhere to the norms of life outside the U.S. Whether it's physical, cultural, or social I've grown accustomed to many new things. As a result I've picked up some colloquial terms, eating habits, or general practices that are distinctly Indian. However, the one I want to highlight is the Indian "head wiggle". I use the term loosely because I'm not sure there's an actual name or term to describe this truly and uniquely Indian custom. I relate the motion to that of a bobble head doll. You flick the head and it seems to bounce this way and that as if an appendage moving of its own volition relative to the body. Initially it's a rather confusing trait because you think people are shaking their head no, but it's actually a show of agreement. In paying closer attention, you can see the motion is not really a shake side to side or a nod up and down. Rather, it's as if someone is trying to touch his or her left ear to left shoulder and vice-versa on the right, but in a abbreviated fashion that causes the neck to act like a spring of  a bobble head doll, and the head to seemingly bounce to and fro.

If that description weren't confusing enough, trying to understand the purpose and meaning behind the motion was initially very difficult. In one of the first client meetings I attended for work, the verbal agreement seemed more than set in stone, but his saying "yes" was undermined by his head bobbing back and forth. I couldn't understand if the meeting took a wrong turn, if my presence there as a foreigner was off putting, or really what was going on. Ultimately, I kept my mouth shut, shook hands, and walked out with my colleague who made it clear that everything went well.

In my pre-arrival reading of India, I remember coming across a description of the "head wiggle", but forgot about it for the time. My colleague reminded me of it after this meeting, and I soon noticed people's heads bouncing around everywhere. While I can't say my "head wiggle" has a natural flow to it, I feel comfortable doing it, and a lot of the time find it to be a subconscious reaction. I find myself thanking people, saying hello, or just smiling and rocking my head back and forth even in normal conversation with an ex-pat or buying something from the corner store. The motion is almost always reciprocated so it's a constant to and fro, albeit very subtle at times.

There is another colleague of mine that sits directly across from me in the office, and the two of us are typically the first arrivals. I know, 8:30 isn't that early, but by India standards it is and that's a whole other tangent I could go on. Anyway, she has the most infectious "head wiggle" greeting in the morning, which is always accompanied by a beaming smile. So of course I respond in turn by shinning some whites and say hello, but it now comes with the "head wiggle". Sometimes I get really into it, and do the casual close of the eyes as if deep in thought, which really reaffirms my acceptance of whatever the person in front of me is saying. My conclusion is that the physical movement of the head actually stems blood flow causing the emotion of a small morning greeting to feel much warmer here.

An interesting adventure I recently engaged in was attending the local Bandra (area I live) fair. It's basically a street fair with vendors, stalls, and some rides set up, but all interwoven around the Mt. Mary Church which resides on top of a hill. I would first like to point out that I did not go on any rides, of which there were really only two, because the Ferris-wheel looked less safe than riding in some of the most broken down, tin bucket cabs here.

I was actually invited by my driver to walk around with him and his family the fair. In the process of meeting them, my driver and I walked from the top of the church, down the back alley of winding steps. This was where the majority of the vendors resided, and the seemingly endless crowd perused up and down deciding to buy sweets, pickled vegetables, or some little trinkets for the kids. I was clearly the lone foreigner which of course invited the majority of eyes and shouts from vendors on me. I teetered up and down on the long line of steps while snapping photos of the general revelry, all the while being passed by mothers draped in saris with arms wrapped around several kids. I inevitably induced numerous "head wiggles" in my direction in which I responded accordingly. Add to this the movement of looking every which way, bobbing up and down on the steps, and the commotion of the whole fair and it all made me feel immersed in the night time cloud of Bombay life. As I said before, everything is more enjoyable at night where the decrepid nature of the buildings and general poverty are veiled in a dark swath with only bright lights to shine on the faces of little kids that timidly smile up at your or group of women who wiggle their heads in your direction. Take into account that it is generally cooler at night, and it really adds to the atmosphere.


On another note, and against the best wishes of those who care about my safety (i.e. my parents), I've undertaken the task of obtaining my driver's license here: car and motorcycle. Aside from pointing out the difficulty but exceeding enjoyment of cruising around the streets on a bike (haven't tried a car yet), I wanted to portray the conspicuous inefficiency and absurdly dirty nature of public life by describing my trip to the DMV. It's obviously not called the DMV here, but the name eludes me.

Essentially what you're looking at is an outdoor dirt plaza surrounded by a long terrace where people queue up in no semblance of order to wait for a stamped approval on their paperwork. In true Indian fashion, the road leading up to the DMV could possibly be the worst maintained road I've been on in the city. Go figure on the irony with that one. On top of that, the whole area is littered with old broken down taxis, rickshaws, and buses. To really strike home the point, I had to run to the bathroom when we (my driver and I) arrived. Now I was wearing work clothes: slacks, a button down shirt, and loafers. I didn't mind a little dirt on the shoes, but I was already sweating enough to where I was thinking of needing another shower. Then I was informed that the place to go was pretty much out in the open, next to the big run down bus on the other side of the dirt parking lot. As I approached I realized I was traversing through a mind field of feces and small trails of urine. Rather than venture further I just took aim and went for it right there, as I really wasn't in the mood to touch down next to the bus. The thing was I really felt like it was no big deal, even as another guy strolled up right next to me. No, I didn't pay him any recognition by giving him a "head wiggle", but it sort of scared me how quickly this Indian mind set has caught on; treat yourself with care, shit on everyone else's stuff.


I eventually got my permits (licenses to come pending a road test at the same shit-hole), but mostly due to the fact I paid some guy extra to expedite my paperwork, and in true white-man fashion skipped the whole line. As for riding around the streets, well I hit the roads in Bandra this weekend with a borrowed bike, and fell right in line with my horn and swerving in and out of all types of vehicles. There is a semblance of order to the traffic which is best experienced driving in it, but I can't say it's the safest. I pretty much stuck to the less traveled lanes, which made it alright. I'll need to give it some time to really venture into the depths of the traffic that engulfs and at the same time epitomizes Mumbai.

 Family bike at night

 Mt. Mary Church

 Outside the church at the top of the hill

 Lining up to start going down the steps into the fair

 Beggar near the church

 Selling a popcorn type snack

 A glimpse down the steps

 Sari clad mothers

 Some more snacks

 Where's the white man?

 All sorts of pickled goodies

 Kebab vendor

 Kids running around

 Corn vendor on the street

 Traffic near my street corner

Normal pile 'o crap on my street

 DMV Windows

 Sauntering up to the toilet

 Toilet

 Couple of tin cans lying behind the waiting line

 My driver (Clifford) enjoying a cup of chai

Your average woman walking on the street

A Game for the Ages

So I've been trying to find or organize a soccer game for the past couple weeks. This is not exactly an easy task here in Mumbai. First off, I wasn't too sure if Indians even like soccer. There really, and sadly, is only one sport here; cricket. It epitomizes the Indian mind set so well in the general slow nature of the game, lack of real physical exertion, and ability for fans to lounge around with bits of excitement strewn in between.

On top of this, as you can maybe imagine at this point, is the difficulty of finding anything that resembles a field. There are a few "pitches" nearby, but I use this term loosely. What we're really looking at are small open spaces of dirt and mud loosely spotted with tufts of grass that can span from a mere centimeter to knee high. Additionally, gaining access to some of these can be a precarious task as who actually manages them is very questionable, and finding said person is sometimes more difficult.

Then to really top it off is the continual excuse of "oh, it's monsoon, probably not worth going out for a game." The ease which this reasoning rolls off everyone's tongue here has even permeated into my vocabulary, but this time I wasn't going to let it impede me.

So I managed to finagle my way into a weekly game that a few expats and one India guy started up. My expectations were low, both in terms of competition and general enjoyment when dealing with the physical elements here: heat, dirt, mud, etc. Yet, it was a chance to finally play, so of course I jumped in.

Again, in true Indian fashion, there was no real scheduling or timing involved, it was just mentioned to show up at one of the local schools on Saturday at 5:30. Since it was basically a pick-up game, I didn't really know how we were organizing teams, or generally who was involved. I only knew two of the expats, but when we showed up it appeared hardly anybody new each so it was perfectly fine. The surface was much the same as everywhere else, except we did have a full field and full size goals. This certainly made up for the lack of grass and levelness.

Since there were about 8 of us, I didn't really know how we were splitting up to play a full field game. Yet, slowly, out of the woodworks sprouted small groups of Indian guys (some just boys), proudly sporting their favorite club team jerseys; all of which were knock-offs with the likes of "Messy" not "Messi" written on the back. I knew then that it would be a good time, especially because several of the guys started passing and running around without shoes. Just as a side note, the overall maintenance of the field was obviously lacking, but even despite some stones and twigs I noticed one guy pick up a hand rake in the middle of the field and throw it to the side, almost as if it were a common routine like taking out the trash or hanging your towel up to dry.

Anyway, the confidence to sport no laces meant that these Indian guys were probably pretty good. At first I thought we might mix and match the teams, but apparently the Indians were some sort of local team, and they wanted to take on the big white (one black) expats together. That was essentially our downfall, as I quickly noticed the age, physique, and sporting attire of our side was in no way ready to keep up with the locals. The term "beggars can't be choosers" really rings true here, and so when I saw our would be right back warming up with a few hazardous looking leg swings and a runner's gait that resembled a duck dodging landmines (potholes in this case) all the while sporting glasses and a thick polo shirt, I knew our chances were doomed.

In the long run, that was certainly the case. However, it was great playing and the Indian guys got a kick out of dancing around us with the ball. Most of the time I was a bit confused on who was playing as there were streams of kids running in and out and passing a ball over and around our game. One little guy had the courage to ask me if he could join our team, so of course I let him run around aimlessly swinging at the ball 50 yards away as only kids can do.

One thing I did learn was that home field advantage is an understatement here. I often found myself tiptoeing holes and bumps in the ground all the while trying to manage a ball that bounced every which way over the uneven, hard surface. One time I was running down the left side hoping to cross the ball in the middle. In my mind I was thinking I need to play it a bit soft, as the ball had been flying across the hard dirt. Yet, right as I was about to kick, the ball rolled into a tuft of knee high grass/weeds and I only managed to move it a meager 10 yards. So that was embarrassing, but generally speaking losing about 10-1 is not good for morale either.

Everyone had a great time, even the Indian death squad that took care of us, so I think we're planning on a weekly match. A few of us expats limped home as clearly none of us were in any sort of running shape and were completely drenched in sweat from the heat. We grabbed a few beers at a friends place close by, ordered pizza, and turned some actual soccer on t.v. in a guise to justify our loss by boasting of all our soccer knowledge.

I'll be back for next week's match, regardless of the expectation that we will be beaten terribly.

Routine of Mumbai (with a reprieve in Thailand)

In my process of moving to Mumbai, I figured it would take about two months to settle in, and the timing on this initial grace period is winding down. So I'd like to assess exactly how far I've come in obtaining my goal.

All in all, I would say I feel very settled. I'll provide a quick glimpse at my daily routine, that in all honesty matches that of working life back home. I'm up, ready, at work by about 8:30. The whole process of navigating traffic, and the general scenery of people skirting around the street with baskets of produce, or motorbikes weaving amongst cars is completely normal at this point. My day at work can be busy or not, depending on what is going on. The most difficult times are having to go out to client sites, which are dispersed all around the city. Mumbai, being a maze of large roads and alleyways that can either be semi-paved or completely potholed while constantly full of cars and people, makes it extremely tedious and time consuming to go anywhere. As a result, I can spend the majority of an afternoon traveling around. Thankfully, the sense of time is very flexible as everyone understands the nature of traveling in the city, and being 30 min late is pretty much normal.

That being said, work life is going well. I'm still enjoying the local Indian food at lunch, and am comfortable pulling up a chair with just about anyone, give a quick hello, then we all simultaneously dive (right) hand first into my meal. My co-workers questioning of "how I like Indian food?" no longer comes up, as they sense I enjoy and even understand how to eat. Sure I fumble around trying to tear of a piece of roti then, and like the arcade game with the metal claw, ply together two ends of the bread in hopes of successfully grabbing a piece of okra, potato, or whatever sort of food chunk is cooked in curry that day. So yes, I've settled in food-wise.

It can take me up to an hour or more arrive home after work, depending on the time I leave and the traffic. These seemingly unpredictable factors really hamper making after work plans, but I typically get back and head to the local gym. Sure enough, it's a Gold's Gym, and the Indian guys take it as seriously as Venice Beach. I'm not sure if I mentioned this already as it's been a while since I wrote last, but I can delve into further detail about the vanity of the young Indian male at a later date. After that I'll head back and eat whatever interesting Indian concoction my cook has whipped up for the day. It's all tasty, well spiced, and convenient to the point that I don't even ask what I'm eating or wonder the quality in comparison to a "real" Indian meal. Some days I'll meet up with a few friends for dinner at someone's apartment, grab a drink or two, but I pretty much keep it easy during the week

As for experiences in general, I've been around for a couple festivals which epitomize the ethnic variance, and I should say acceptance, of India. For starters, a couple weeks ago there was a festival to honor lord Krishna. Now my Indian mythology (Hindu in this case) is not strong, but a woman at work tried to explain it to me. Basically Krishna, lord of attraction (or something like that), has a strong affliction for "white butter" which is some yogurt substance. As a result, he will take any measure to obtain this delight, which somehow translates into people building human pyramids in order to snatch jars full of yogurt at the top of scaffold towers. The prize, other than a pot full of yogurt, is usually a good deal of cash for the winning team. As festivals go, it definitely sounds odd, but oddity is normalcy when living in an area where so many ancient and mystical beliefs collide. I've learned to accept some of the strangest rituals as the norm.

At least I was lucky enough to stumble across one of these competitions on my drive home from work. Amongst a throng of people dancing and running around the street, two groups of young men were piling themselves on each other to reach a platform about 15 feet up. The base consisted of about ten people, and narrowed at the top in which a young boy would climb up the human tower to fetch his prized yogurt. In true Indian fashion, there was no safety measure taken except for the child at the top wore a life preserver and what looked like a rugby helmet. Not sure how a dive from the top would result, but this sort of danger is not the most pressing amongst the majority of Indians who roam the streets.

Just last week, there were two holidays. One was the end of Ramadan, and the other the beginning of the celebration of Ganesh (otherwise known as the elephant headed god). I'm told the Ganesh festival lasts 11 days, only to be told by someone else that it is only 10. In the spirit of India, people decide to spew whatever they believe is proper, rather than understand the true facts. Additionally, for some untold reason in which no one has provided a clear explanation, days 1,2,3,5,8,10,11 are the most auspicious. However, I've also been told that days 1,3,5,9,11 are the most revered. All I know is that this weekend, of which one day will mark the end of the celebration, will be quite rambunctious with crowds lining the street and music blasting as people carry they huge Ganesh statues they've been building during the previous days around the city. The final resting place is the water near the Queen's necklace (a strip of ocean lined walkway) in South Bombay. So yes, they just dump these wooden and largely paper machete statues into the water. I'm led to assume clean up is optional as people typically find washed up legs and trunks over the following days. It should be interesting if I can figure out when this occurs and get past the crowds to view it all.

Ganesh is meant to represent rebirth in a sense of a new beginning for any aspect in peoples' lives. For instance, you pray to Ganesh for and when you get a new job, a new car, have a child, or just want to start a new resolution in your life (i.e. New Year's). I know it is Mother Midge's favorite looking Indian god so I want to wish her the best in starting anew and for her recovery, as well as for Aunt Marta and Uncle Jim up in Vermont.

I think I would be remiss in not mentioning the fact that I took advantage of the holidays last week to venture off to Bangkok. I had the full intention of traveling around India, but buying tickets last minute were in some cases more expensive that flying to Thailand for a few days. So I again found myself jet setting off to another city in South/Southeast Asia. In full disclosure, I had traveled to Bangkok for a couple days after studying abroad, but I viewed this trip as pretty much a first time adventure as I was staying with two friends from school who have lived there the past two years. It would be an insiders tour of Bangkok; a bit daunting and exciting due to the rumors of revelry that cloud the city.

It was great comparing my friends' stay in Bangkok to what I've been experiencing in Mumbai. While Thailand is a developing country, and Bangkok is not exactly Hong Kong, I still found it much easier to be in the Mumbai. For one, there were several easy means of public transit, and the streets where pretty much clean at least when compared to the trash piles I witness on a daily basis in India. Also, it was generally easy meandering around alleys and small market areas, hopping a canal taxi, or jumping on the back of a motorcycle taxi. This last mode of transit was by far the most thrilling, and sure enough the easiest way to weave through traffic. I'll post some videos of these rides if I can.

Sure I was on a bit of vacation so my mind was at ease and free from worries of real life/work. However, it was great to plop down on some plastic furniture on the street corner, order a bowl of the local noodles, taste some colorful and overly sweet Thai teas ice teas, and just take in the scene. This sort of relaxing experience isn't exactly avaialable in Mumbai where food pleasures are found in restaurants and not really on the grime of the street. I must also admit, that I haven't ventured too much into the land of street/corner food in India, but it simply isn't as prevalent as in S.E. Asia.

In keeping with my open retelling of my experiences, I of course ventured into the mystical and more than adventurous Bangkok nightlife. I also had another American friend visiting from Singapore, named Brandon, so the Brendan/Brandon combo attempted to take on who knows what in Bangkok. We had some direction from my local (but also American) friends, however one had previous plans and the other was ill, so we simply went with the flow of the night in Bangkok. This is a pretty accurate description, as we lacked a true plan and simply stepped out of one bar only to slide along the stream of lights, flashing, cat calling, and raucous made from all over the place, into the next one.

I'll spare the mindless details, but say that all in all I felt very safe in large part due to the respectful and amicable nature of the Thai people. Everyone, and I mean everyone, addresses you with a hello and small bow in which you place you hands together in prayer fashion. Conversation flows with an easy smile no matter who you chat with; be it a local or foreigner.

So, Thailand was fun. I came back with some new cheap clothing purchases, a couple nice pictures, a couple pictures I'll hold in fear of blackmail, and a few tales of woe to share with the a certain audience.

Coming back to Mumbai was a much smoother transition than before. Sure it's easy to chide many aspects of this unkempt, less than developed metropolis, yet this being my third time through the airport I felt somewhat comfortable and at ease. The roads home were almost familiar. Even the run down overpass, and sprawled slum specked with blue tarps to protect from the rains was a site I knew so well. Life here is not exactly easy and carefree, but it's no longer hard. Even if I often envisage of a life in almost any other city I've resided or visited, either east and west, I've learned to enjoy and appreciate what it means to live in Mumbai.

Below are some scenes around my area of the city, and pictures of my apartment.

                                                                   A rickshaw

Thailand Pictures. The motorcycle taxi video won't work, apologies.

                                        Chasing Will on the back of a motorcycle taxi

                                                

                                                   Brandon enjoying some street corn

                                                                  Canal Taxi

                                                Ronald saying "hi" the polite Thai way

                                                     Will at a local fruit vendor

                                                Picking our poison a the corner shot bar