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

Hong Kong

I had just written a lovely expose on the city of Hong Kong, but for whatever reason everything was deleted before I could post it out. So I'll attempt again....

For some reason unbeknownst to me, my company decided I was valuable enough to fly to Hong Kong for the week (as in last week). So without questioning the decision making, or questioning my worth at work, I found myself once again in a plane flying off to venture around a new city. In reality, I had been to Hong Kong before with my family several years ago, however under the guise of a tourist bootcamp. This solo journey would certainly entail many more views of cold mugs around an open air bar than of the harbor from Victoria Peak. Tourism takes on a different meaning when you're seeing a place for enjoyment and visiting friends.

Although my current stay in India has been brief, traveling to a developed city such as Hong Kong really puts into perspective the contrast to what we read of India as a "developing and emerging" economy. It was a bit of a reverse culture shock stepping off the plane, and in my somewhat biased opinion at the time, I felt that the Hong Kong airport was the most perfectly constructed building. Everything was laid out conveniently, and the best part was I could take a metro from the airport all the way into Hong Kong island. It was almost too easy and comfortable. My appreciation and reverence for a developed city could only be garnered through the contrast of the airport to downtown travel between Mumbai and Hong Kong. A train that quietly glides along the pristine coastal waters of the South China Sea versus a bumpy, jammed road sprinkled with showers and horns blaring on all sides. I'll take Hong Kong, thank you.

After hopping off a smooth 25 minute ride to downtown I had to question where exactly I stood. Was this China proper? No, the cabbie spoke pretty decent, broken English. Yet, the billboards of cutesy Chinese girls with obnoxiously large round eyes gazed at my with that same mindless stare, and many Chinese characters broke the surface of the foggy haze that is my ever waning recollection of the language. The defining line between colonial and modern Hong Kong was clearly thinning at every turn, but the most noteable aspect of the city, which I'm sure has been true since its founding, is the harbor. It is the center of the city; economic, physical, and psychological. Residential and commercial towers on both the Kowloon and Hong Kong sides are jammed into arrangement; concrete flowers all stretching and leaning to catch a glimpse of the water. People move in response to how they are positioned to the harbor. I found myself cautiously avoiding anything more than a five minute reprieve of figuring out the location of the harbor. Buildings pile up the hills, one on top of another, in order to keep their gaze directed on the waterway.

I often found myself meandering around the alley ways, in reality more like staircases, that intersect the roads that wind up the hill. At night these areas brought out the incandescent shop signs gleaming with Chinese characters, and the crowds that hopped from pub, to bar, to club in the greatest attempt to fulfill all types of epicurean dreams. It's hard to pass on joining in as the aroma of night time (mis)adventures wafted around every turn. I can't say my time was exclusively spent sauntering about late at night, but the general theme was to relax and enjoy time with friends. During the day, outside of work that is, I spent time roaming the streets with my friend Nacho who just moved there, or relaxed by the hotel pool. The dinner options were seemingly endless, and I attempted to fill my longing for a mix of international cuisine every night. Not that you can't get beef here in India, but I've more or less avoided it, so one night I indulged in a spectacularly large, juicy burger that I won't soon forget.

To harp a bit more on the contrast between these two cities, I can certainly say that India brings out my appreciation for developed and what I would deem "easily manageable" cities. Being back in Mumbai I'm falling into a routine, which actually helps to keep me sane. I'm noticing that Mumbai is a city of people simply living. Their comfort level with the status quo inhibits physical improvement of the city, but the difficulty to get anything accomplished, especially on a large scale, is almost insurmountable. Enjoyment comes from human and social interaction, be it friends, family, or just strolling the streets amongst thousands of other unknown people. The desire for Western retailers and consumer goods is obviously growing, but people here simply like to be around other people; have a cup of tea or go out to eat, and through personal interaction the obstacles of daily life and impediments to create a picturesque city fall by the way side. The sense of individual is sometimes too foreign to grasp, and I'm learning quickly.

On that note, I'm off to meet a coworker (albeit expat from out of town) for dinner in South Bombay.

Jaded

It's only been three weeks, but the noise, congestion, poverty, etc. no longer weigh on me. Sure it's frustrating bumping along slowly on the commute home from work, or being stared at when I walkdown the street. Yet at this point, it's something that I hardly notice or take into account in my every day actions.

For instance, I spent some time this afternoon walking down the coastal stretch in Bandra (the area I live in), and didn't really think about the dilapidated looking buildings or low ceiling slum homes I passed by on my way to the cement walkway that stretches the western edge of Bandra. It is hardly what you can call a "beautiful or pleasant" walk in terms of the scenery as at times I had to maneuver around a couple friendly, albeit mud soaked feral dogs, or avoid the group of youngsters gazing at me in amazement as if I were the next coming of Gandhi or Tendulkar (famous cricketer here), all the while I gaze out as waves that roll into the small cove littered with a mix of rusty slum roofs, and small heaps of trash. There is no "beach" to speak of, and the walkway is just a raised area above the sea wall of rocks. There are a few, small, various colored boats that are moored just off the cove area. No one sits in them, and I'm not sure anyone would want to swim out to hop in one. So, in true Indian style, the purpose they serve is a little hard to determine.

For a minute or two I stood staring out at the water and up the coastline switching between my perceptions as a westerner and as someone slowly acclimating to life in India. It was like sitting in the optometrists chair as the doctor flips between lenses asking me to decide if lens one or two provided a better description of what lay before me. If this were a true medical exam my optometrist might be a bit frustrated at my lack of a clear answer, but I can say I'm less taken aback by what I observe, and continually finding a rhythm of dealing with the differences.


Yet, a stroll is a stroll, and the purpose was to get a better sense of what's around me as I moved into my new apartment about a week ago. My reference to being jaded is less about my growing numbness to the somewhat challenging surroundings, and more about my lifestyle. Needless to say I live quite well with a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment. Do I need all this space? Definitely not. Is it necessary that I have a maid/cook, and a driver to take me to work everyday? Probably not. Although, as you can imagine, it's quite nice.

So yes, I'm jaded in that I look around and see poverty staring right back at me on every street corner yet live a life above most everyone else. My initial thought was to forgo the perks that most expats, and for that matter just about all fairly well off Indians, are privy to. However, the comforts and ease of living that these provide make life more manageable rather than struggling to adjust to a solo life in the disorganization and mayhem of Mumbai.

Ok, not the best reasoning, but the good news is I'm not having too much difficulty settling in. To point out the "disorganization", and general inefficiency that you might hear about India, I spent the majority of my Saturday (specifically from about 10 a.m. - 7 p.m.) watching a whole crew of about 10 guys move out my old furniture, and put in the new goods. Not only that, but this was supposed to happen a week ago, and for some unforetold reason it was delayed a week. The point to highlight is that the sense of time is obviously different, but the abundance of human capital is overly apparent. The convergence of the two make everything overwhelming slow moving. I've been in the process of opening a local bank account for about two weeks now. The answer to when everything will be approved and ready is still unclear, but it's just another example.

I can't fault the Indians for the willingness of its people to work. It explains why we have seven guys at our office that all simultaneously fill the role as copy maker, janitor, cafeteria cook, and general maintenance. That's at least what it looks like at first sight. However, the nuances of the "office boys" relationships can only be described as a modern age caste. At the top, there seems to be one deputy general task master, who I've never seen smile. I'm convinced his prestige and standing come with his prowess in upper lip hair development; very strong. I'm unclear what he actually does around the office, but there's no need to question.

Then there are a couple of his henchmen that sit right behind me sharing a computer. They will fetch any print out or quickly make a copy. They seem to lie at the same level or just below the guy I call the maitre'd. This is mostly because he wears a suit vest and often bustles from the reception room to office area carrying tea. He also seems to run the kitchen, where, yes, they serve breakfast and lunch for free. I wouldn't say the food is exquisite, but it works by my standards as good Indian food.

The base of the system are the janitor types, who are constantly sweeping, cleaning, and picking up what looks like nothing most of the time. Again, I can't fault them as they need to keep a job, and looking busy certainly helps. It's no secret that the "office boys" face hardships that I can't pretend to comprehend. There's an especially unfortunate looking young guy who's conspicuous lack of communication and uneasiness greeting or even looking normal employees in the eye arouses the greatest sense of empathy. It's this type of person that forces me to feel jaded to the point of hypocritical in myself. It makes me realize that my sense of altruism is just that; a perception rather than reality. This is why its difficult to justify for living so well. Yet, I fall into the Indian attitude of living life on a personal level. I'm told, and in instances like these am embarrassed to say that I agree, that the issues around poverty and inequality are too great to change.

Aside from the somewhat drab profile of many Indian workers, everything has been going well. I'm enjoying figuring out the city, learning to live a new lifestyle, and meeting new people. The highlights so far waver between several experiences. Of note are, going out for the company party in which several people bestowed it on themselves to teach me proper Indian drinking etiquette. This really just means drinking as much whiskey as possible and dancing like an idiot in front of everyone (the former I attempted, the later not so much especially being the lone white man in the office). I've met people out of work from all over: Europeans, Americans, Indians, Indian-Americans, Indians who went to the U.S. to study and then come home. So going to dinner and out to bars/clubs with them has been fun.

All in all, it's a bit of a challenge living completely on my own, and forces me to be more proactive in reaching out. However, this "growing-up" thing isn't treating me too bad so far. I've met great people, and can at least thank my maid/cook Sandra for making me some great meals.

A Week's Glimpse

I'd first like to thank everyone for their concern after the recent bomb blasts in the city. I'm perfectly fine, and staying well away from where everything occurred. That being said, it's quite startling how quickly the city recovered from the incident. It's almost as if nothing even happened, and sadly because it is nothing new. The ethnic and cultural diversity that makes the country so unique, also lead to these traumatic events, especially in the hub of cultural conflict that is Mumbai.

The proceeding descriptions of my experience so far are mostly limited to the residential pseudo-suburb that I'm staying in called Bandra. That being said, I think it gives me a glimpse, albeit on a smaller scale, of what the city is all about. For starters, the commotion here is similar to what I've seen driving to work everyday, and maybe even more so as the streets are more compact and the rickshaws arent allowed to venture downtown.

The appeal of the city so far is being able to amble along the streets that wind and connect with little semblance of order or planning. I can turn a corner and be facing a modern mall area with huge posters begging the passing clientele to check out the "50% off sale". Next door might be a small stationery store with no semblance of what's sold inside other than some files and folders posing in the window. Just 100 yards away is my favorite entrepreneurial experiment in which a withered old couple, beaming with toothless smiles, stand behind what looks like a hardware store counter or maybe more like a pawnshop window, attempting to sell passersby disco balls and stereo speakers. There's no rhyme or reason to the products they offer or even more astounding the apparent joy they experience by selling them.

Down the lane and a slight curve up hill is the outdoor produce market, jammed with local groceries like New York bodegas. Crammed somewhere in there is the local PVC pipe vendor, doing more smoking and gabbing with his pals than selling plastic piping. Take a left and head more downhill there is an old guy, supporting his weight with a crutch, plugging away on his pipe and staring at no one, but taking in everything. Some local teenagers sit at the western pizza parlor, sharing furtive, hormone induced, glances with each other as they learn to slowly embrace the fact boys and girls can co-exist.

Aside from walking around, most of my day to day experience so far are in taxis, eating in small restaurants, or buying some groceries. In all of these the apparent missing element is women. There is no struggling student busing tables to make ends meet, or the wife of the grocer helping to bag your goods. Not even the chefs I've seen are women, let alone the cabbies. The place to find women is on the streets, and especially the large vegetable market that I pass by on my way to work. They diligently chop away at large hordes of produce that litter the streets, and are simply dumped in piles on the roadside. They seem to have a powerful sway over most traffic, as taxis and trucks stop and sway to allow a sari clad elderly lady to cross the street with a basketful of veggies propped on her head. So I see them on the street, shopping or idling or just going about their day. The most recognizable thing is that while many women or girls wear a sari or salwar kameez, no two are exactly the same design or color. It makes for a wonderful contrast when looking at some of these drab buildings.

The city really grows on me at night. The darkness veils the unappealing aspects, and as lights pop up the true nature of the city starts to shine. It helps that the temperature cools, and the ever present rains of the monsoon season seem to subside during the night. It's also harder for me to stand out and incur staring eyes as I walks down the street. During the night I also find it easier to succumb to the notion of letting India take over, forgetting my preconceptions and inhibitions. It's like a trust fall at summer camp where you ensure the hands behind you will impede the inevitable disaster. Except now, I'm relying on the hands of millions to catch me, and sweep me along the congestion, noise, senses and smells that are so unfamiliar. The other night I was meandering along in a rickshaw when, without noticing, we were stuck in a traffic jam which resembled one of those metal puzzles in which you need to twist and turn to remove the ring from a chain that connects two horseshoes. I could feel the frustration setting in, when I remembered to let go. I fell back into a million pairs hands and just kept moving along. Keeping this in mind has definitely helped in my transition.

Another great experience was going to lunch with some colleagues, and eating my first meal with my hands. By that I mean my right hand, as you would never consider eating with your left. In all honestly I didn't expect this to happen right away, but noticed my colleagues doing it, so decided to follow suit. In some ways it's a bit unnerving, but enjoyable all the same. It's not some dainty procedure as if you're sipping from a tea cup, grasping the handle with thumb and fore finger and avoiding any further contact by poking a pinky finger out. No, you get all digits involved, picking, ripping, dipping, and mixing all in the same. I think I passed the test, as no one said anything, but like learning to use chop sticks for the first time, it's a skill I can definitely improve.

What I've learned about India is that it is real. Real in the sense that it's not the lofty images of Buddhist temples and elephant headed gods being worshipped by beautiful shawl clad women gazing at you with mysterious dark eyes while the chubby raj's mustache bristles in tune to the upbeat music. The taj mahal and palaces of rajhistan exist, but not in the everyday lives of the people in the city. My everyday life meshes with them, so in that sense I'm learning to fall in line. When, like on friday night Im cruising down the highway, again in the small three wheeled space capsule called a rickshaw, I know to take it all in stride as a huge truck rushes by leaving us shaking in it's wake as if we were a canoe being pushed aside by a cruise liner. The road is then left empty for us as we buzz along and eventually I arrive home safe and sound. The chaos works, and accepting it makes life easier and more enjoyable.

The Madness of Mumbai

I made it safe and sound to Mumbai on Friday night. My experience after that was nothing close to "safe and sound". I'm perfectly healthy and uninjured, but as someone mentioned to me before, it's a constant attack on all your senses. Cars scream by rickshaws (also known as tuk-tuks in other s.e. Asian countries) that whizz by trucks who happen to barely miss the two old ladies wrapped in saris sitting on the corner of the guard rail for the on ramp to the highway. No, I'm not joking, I think I've witnessed more close encounters on my 15/20 min commute by cab to work everyday than I've ever seen in my life. Amongst the 30 or so officially recognize dialects, and what I'm told is a out 200 actual ones, I'm pretty convinced the fine push of a steering wheel, squeeze of a rickshaws horn, and ring of a bicycle bell all fall within the category of a language. New York really has nothing on the continual street noise here.

The funny thing, I do feel safe. Right from the start I decided to just assume the attitude of the mayhem being normal, and have quickly become immune to cars nearly driving over my toes or knocking me over. I think the "out of sight out of mind" rule doesn't apply here, but it's more of a "not in your control, not your problem" attitude. It's definitely every one looking out for number one in the commotion of daily life.

I read about modernizing cities and emerging economies, but what I'm sensing is that many assume a romantisized view of what that means, and take the poverty as something to put in the back of their minds. I know I do it too, but being here makes you realize the nature of your normal citizen. I guess i forgot a bit about what china was like, but i think its certainly more apparent here in india. For instance, the buildings here are certainly not clean, minus corporate offices, by western standards. As I looked around for apartments over the weekend, I tried to put my perception of cleanliness aside when viewing the exterior of what would possibly be my home for the next year. I know my dad would spend every weekend for a good six months trying to wipe away the grime that builds up from the humidity, monsoon, then heat. It's a good thing yard work isn't mandatory anymore. Yet, in reality it doesn't bother me that much. Not too sound like a cliche real estate agent, but it brings about a certain charm the way people accept a scrubby exterior as a community. Hey, if it doesn't bother them I can't let something like that get to me.

This rambling is making my experience sound less than optimal, which is not what I'm trying to portray. The challenge will be to adjust, and meeting people is key. I met a German guy on saturday who's lived in the city for about a year. It was helpful to get his perspective on everything, and certainly going out late with some of his Indian friends settled some anxieties. What has also been nice is the food. I understand the British desire to rule this land of spices, as everything, even the office cafeteria, tastes great. I'm probably jaded in my opinions at this point, but I'm about to head out now and try some new dishes.

I haven't taken many pictures yet, but I'll leave you with the image of me sitting in the back of a local cab, which means no A/C, with most likely a rusty fender and designed for some reason to be about 3/4 the size of a normal car (probably because most are from the 1960s). My driver is weaving around every sort of vehicle, person and the occasional holy cow, as I take in a couple puffs of tar black exhaust belching from the truck beside us. I'm clearly the only white guy in thet congestion in which everything is viewable due to the transparent nature of car windows here, and because I'm wearing a button-down work shirt that shines like new compared to most peoples clothes. We head off a ramp twisting around the bay, and pass by, you guessed it, a slum next to the water, right before we duck into the more residential alcove where I'm currently staying.

So yes, sensory overload.

A Week in Singapore

I spent the last week partaking in a career workshop during the day, and enjoying my time with the other people in my program at night. The workshop was somewhat helpful in revealing personality characteristics and career goals, but I think it's important to remember that I still need to apply myself at work otherwise defining my goals will mean nothing.

Obviously the best part was interacting with everyone in the group, touring the city, and general rabble rousing when the time called for it. One night I found myself sitting at a low wooden table in the middle of a pedestrian street in Singapore's "Chinatown" surrounded by a mix of cultures represented by the people, food, and general scenery. In the midst of a conversation I suddenly realized the uniqueness of my situation. For starters, I was in Singapore; the confluence of Easter and Western cultural rivers. Walking into Chinatown I could sense the Asian influences permeating through the streets. There was a hint of sizzling spiced meat along with the occasional, if somewhat off putting, stench of sweat and refuse that doesn't exactly make me cringe, but reminds me that the cookie-cutter, anti-microbial hygienic obsession in the West isn't all that normal. The red lanterns draping across the street put up a face of being Chinese, but the tautness of the wire betrays this Chinese appearance to reveal an attention to detail and order only found in Singapore.

This scene set the stage for what I often fail to recognize as an overwhelming blend of cultures and people in my program. It's at moments like this that I appreciate the situation I am in, and what I can learn from everyone else. At the table were: Jin and Feifan (two girls from China), Prashant (India), Kazuaki (Japan), Brendan Kilpatrick and Sean (Ireland), Nacho (Spain), and Brandon (U.S.). The collection of our various backgrounds in that particular setting eating various Asian influenced foods, sipping on cold bottled beer, and engagin in conversation about our travel experiences and general cultural differences we noticed in each other created a hilarious and insightful conversation that set the tone for our week together. It also helped that we spent several late nights chasing the young adult dream of humorous social interactions that can only be appreciated without any overbearing responsibilities. The transition from our college days to real maturity is, as I notice the world over, consistently cloaked in a veil of inebriation. Needless to say, it was fun.

I must admit that my feeling towards Singapore changed a bit as I ventured around different areas of the city. Everything is beautifully laid out with small green parks surrounding the sleek modern skyscrappers. Yet, there is an overwhelming commercial feel to it all. The main Clark Quay area is basically an outdoor shopping mall consisting of mainly bars and restaurants snaking along the river that cuts through the city. The tell-tale sign was walking by a Hooters after just passing by a Mexican restaurant with some ridiculous name like "Tacorita de Amor". Everything was a bit too focused on extracting every last cent out of the crowds that are trying to decide if they wanted to forget their daily problems by eating shitty generic quesadillas, gazing at the owl eyes on the Hooter's waitress' shirts, or fist pumping in the dark cavern of the clubs (I must admit I did partake in this last one a bit). On top of that, all Asian girls sport the same designer labels that I'm convinced is the only reason Italy's economy hasn't gone completely under.

Adding to the Big Mac eating, Prada bag swinging, eyeshadow covered dolls is the omniscient eye of the Singaporean government. Everything does run very efficiently as a result of this influence: from the Metro to the legal prostitutes that advertise on every street corner. On the flip side, efficiency makes life very easy here, but it's at odds with the enjoyable chaos that I think will be present in India.

Criticism aside, I still enjoy Singapore. The weather is hot and humid, but easy to adjust to seeing how every building blasts you with a suffocating amount of AC. I'm currently crashing with my friend Prashant in his temporary serviced apartment before my departure to Mumbai on Friday.

Fourth of July Facts in Singapore:
Yes, I'm writing this and drinking a Budweiser.
No, I'm not at the beach.
Yes, I'm wearing my USA soccer jersey.
No, I did not get any compliments on it.
Yes, I ate a Big Mac for dinner.
No, I did not feel good after.

Hope everyone enjoys celebrating the fourth

(The dinner group described above, and a scene from the street)

P.S. I forgot to give a shout out to my cousin Madeline. I still can't find a present for you. I need more ideas.