What have you been up to Kim?

Whew! School has been kicking my ass lately, and I'm not alone accordingly to Julie! Physically I'm holding up well, but mentally this program is taxing to say the least. It requires you to actually attend every class and pay attention; something some of you guys know I'm bad at. The tests are vigorous as are our daily schedules. So how does the sanity equation balance itself? With a little bit of fun and relaxation or course. Here are some pictures that were taken this semester.

This is the Gateway to India. It's a pretty big tourist attraction, and it happens to be across the street from a 5 star hotel. A word of advice for you guys thinking of visiting this attraction. Beware the snake charmer who randomly opens his apparatus to reveal a springing cobra. Yeah, imagine our chagrin when some random dude on the street took out his cobra for show and tell.


This picture was taken from a crosswalk above the Koliwada station stop. More than half the city's population of 13 million reside outside of the city. The Train is the main mode of transportation for these folks. They hang from the side of the cars. I wonder what they do with their Lay's bags and other trash?

Dhobi Ghat! This is a unique feature of Mumbai, the dhobi is a traditional laundryman, who will collect your dirty linen, wash it, and return it neatly pressed to your doorstep. All for a pittance. The "laundries" are called "ghats": row upon row of concrete wash pens, each fitted with its own flogging stone. The clothes are soaked in sudsy water, thrashed on the flogging stones, then tossed into huge vats of boiling starch and hung out to dry. Next they are ironed and piled into neat bundles. This is a picture of the most famous ghats at Saat Rasta near Mahalaxmi Station where almost two hundred dhobis and their families work together in what has always been a hereditary occupation.

This guy is taking a break to embrace the camera.

Here's an example of a mangy dog chilling on the sidewalk overlooking Dhobi Ghat. During the day, they are everywhere and are for the most part docile and harmless. It's a totally different story at night...

Lord Krishna's birthday is celebrated on the street in front of our hostel. Legend has it that when Lord Krishna was really young, he was really fond of eating the butter and milk that his mom bought for the family. She would have to go to great lengths to keep it out of his reach. One day she decided to put it in a pot and tie it high up so Krishna would be shit out of luck. So every year on his birthday, teams of people gather to form human pyramids to try to get to a pot hanging high in the street. The ropes holding up the pot of butter and milk are adorned with colorful fruits. There is a main challenge in the center of Mumbai(jackpot of $30,000), while recreations take place in all parts of town.

After two attempts, the yellow team got the job done. Mind you this is in the rain, in the middle of the street, and 40+ feet in the air. Here is an ecstatic member


Here is how they did it. Nutso isn't it?

A little study aid.


The aid is not complete without a salty snack.

A couple of us at the bar in Phoenix mills compound. That's me, Rachel, Colin, and Mark.

Here's one of us at the Salt water cafe. It was pretty nice there.

Off to bed.. Don't let the bed bugs bite.

Namaste again

If you're wondering what I've been eating, take a wild guess. If you guessed curry, give yourself a high five or something. We went to a place that served all sorts of delicious food in small portions. The name of the restaurant eludes me right now, but I'm sure it'll come to my mind when im fiending for grub. I should also mention that I have been beef and pork free for a month now. Although im jonesing for a steak, I'm sure my body would go apeshit if I actually did consume it.

I have acutally been consuming lots and lots of fresh vegetables. Much like the ones sold on the street, literally. The food itself isn't tainted, it's the water that they rinse them with. After a little bit of time in the rice cooker (yes, I cook food inside my rice cooker), or on the frying pan they are good to eat.

So a jew, a chinaman, a Hindu and nigerian walk into a Muslism mosque... Ingredients for a bad joke? No, quite the opposite. We took a trip to Haji Ali mosque.

Haji Ali mosque is built on a tiny islet about 500 yards from the coast, in the middle of Worli Bay, in the vicinity of Worli. The islet is linked to Mahalakshmi by a narrow jetty. This jetty doesn't have railings or anything, and it gets bashed with dirty water from the Arabian sea. Therefore, the mosque is accessible only during low tide. Being really anxious, we make the trek during high tide! It was nuts. The water was crashing in from both sides. I don't mind getting wet, but the water was dirrrrty. Imagine the Delawere river, but exponentially dirtier. The walkway was filled with people going to and coming from the mosque, beggers (children and adults), people with no limbs peddling their wares, people who have been severely burned, and various other people. They mostly laid on the ground, wit hthe water violently splashing them, with their limbs perched for a handout.. I didn't dare snap a picture.

Legend has it that Haji Ali died on his way to Mecca and his body, in a casket, floated back to Mumbai. However, some believe that Haji Ali drowned at the place where the mosque stands today. About 40,000 pilgrims visit the shrine on Thursdays and Fridays. People from all faiths visit & pray at the "dargah"

Me and some of the IMBA guys at Haji Ali

You're in India

I began my last post with a simple question, where am I? After much research, I have discovered that I'm in Mumbai India. I guess that explains all the quirks and characteristics that my atmosphere posseses. With classes waning down for the term, I finally got to explore the city. This is city is certainly busling. As I have mentioned before, traffic is non-stop. Rush hour is damn near 24/7. It doesn't help that the infrastructure here is underdeveloped for the most part. Roads are poorly upkept, traffic lights/signs are almost non existant, and there are millions of people in the road! Driving in Mumbai is a free for all. The main street outside my hostel sportsan Interstate 676-esque motif to it. In order to get across it, we have to take our chances because there are no traffic lights or signals. In all fairness, there actually is but no one obeys it. Many times have I seen trucks and motor bikes zip by on a pedestrian's green. I no longer question this, as I always come up with the same answer: You're in India.

Having some free time we took a trip to a Jain temple. Jainism is an independent and ancient religion of India. We happen to be staying in their area of Mumbai as well. Here is a picture of me outside one of their temples. In order to gain entry, you have to remove your shoes. After walking in, you have to make sure you don't disturb any of the people praying by taking pictures or other touristy acts. It's worth noting that the temple are very well upkept and are made mostly of marble. The religious figures inside resemble those of some Asian cultures. I took some pictures from inside.

The women are getting ready to stay their prayers to a Jain god.

A picture of a Jain god figurine.

The roof of the temple...notice the detail!

This is an archway of one of the doors...

An offering to the gods.

After the temple, we trekked to where Ghandi stayed when he visited Bombay/Mumbai. Walking through the house was very interesting. There were actual letters written to president Teddy Roosevelt, as well as Hitler, from Ghandi.

Placard outside the residence.

Ghandi's actual room. He had very little posessions.

Ghandi library

Sculpture of the man himself.

Much more pictures and commentary to follow...

Where am I?

So we wake up in the moring to a loud clanking, have a shot of hot tea and off to school. Well the school is about a mile away. Dressed in a shirt and tie, hoofing it in this heat during monsoon season simply would not feasible. So what are we to do? Flag down a cab of course. For about 20R(40Rs=$1), 3 or 4 people can cram into a cab and ride to school in style. Most of the cabs look like the one I have pictured. They run on natural gas, and they are as narrow as a the width of a quarter. Did I mention they don't have A/C and the cab driver sleeps/marinates in the searing heat? Yeah they mostly smell like doo doo inside. The problem really isn't the narrow cabs, or the lack of A/C. It's the traffic and the air quality! Mumbai has a hugeee air quality problem, caused mainly by the dense traffic. Cars, trucks, bikes and scooters run rampant throughout the city. Traffic is so packed, cabs run within inches of each other. Put it this way, traffic is so dense that if I roll down the windows in the cab I can reach out and touch a bus or clothes line an overzealous biker. Sitting in traffic with the window down can be harmful, as the fumes from the multiple exhausts make you very dizzy and sleepy. After you get to your destination, you usually have to rid yourself of the gnarly boogers that have accumulated in your nose, haha.

People love to honk, more so than the lovely cabbies in NYC. Everytime you cross a street, or walk in the street (the majority of sidewalks are jacked up) you get honked at. Whether it be 3am or 3pm, people honk. They honk if the wind blows. They honk 24/7. So I did some research and asked around. Apparently it's a method of warning oncoming traffic/other drivers of their presence. In fact, it's a way for them to warn each other of impending doom or if a mofo is getting to close to your ride. In fact, the majority of new car owner's first modification is an upgraded horn. Check out what the back of this little delivery van says.

So I'm the only Asian person at The Welingkar Institute of Management that is not
Indian. The guards at the front gate (guards are everywhere, from cell phone stores to the entrances to any public venue) never card me. It's a sweet deal come to think of it. The guards hassle regulars of the school, but because of the way I look they let me roll on by. I think I could get used to this reverse racism. It happens everywhere, not just at the school. I recently went to a five star hotel to get a haircut, and the doors were opened for me, I was greeted, I was tended to hand and foot, no questions asked. Imagine if a dude of the street tried to roll up in there like that. He would have been tackled before he even got near the compound. More on that later.

W are confned to this room from 10am-5pm, monday-saturday. It's pretty sad really, especially with all the sights to see and things to do out there.

This is a view from the roof of our school. Because it's the end of monsoon season, sunny days like this are rare. Even if it's sunny, it does not mean a flash shower could not roll in to spoil our fun.

Flash floods make people pop and lock, check it out.

Dont believe that video? It's true, cows just chill anywhere...

Three weeks in

It has been three weeks, and I am still alive(thank you azithromycin). I've only gotten violently sick once so far, and I think it was an isolated incident. If you ill informed, or if you have not been paying attention, I am three weeks into the IMBA program. These past three weeks have been amazing to say the least. I will give you the breakdown of a typical day for us. We usually wake up to an obnoxiously loud clanking of our door. Who awakens us from our slumber you ask? Who else but the laundry lady. For 200 Rs a month (40Rs=$1), she comes by every morning to wash whatever clothes you put out. You have to provide the soap, and she washes the clothes in the community shower. She woman is but 85lbs, 4'9 but damn can she clank the crap out of our door. After rubbing the sleepies from our eyes, there is a neighborhood boy who delivers us tea every morning. They are served in shot glassish style cups. They cost 6 Rs each, and they taste like a hot version to the Malaysian iced teas you can get at Penang's. Pretty good deal if you ask me. After we drink tea, we hang our clothes up i nthe room to dry. Here's a picture of what I'm talking about. Can you spot my roomate?

Welcome to India!

Namaste!!

Please ignore the date of this post.

I apologize that this blog was not started sooner. I have been so busy tying up loose ends with the dorming situation, with classes, with food and the language barrier. I'll give you the scoop starting form the beginning. . I got through security at Philly intl just fine. I sat around and waited for a while, but eventually boarded and landed in London. That's where it got weird. When I boarded the plane, I instantly fell asleep in my cozy window seat. I felt the plane take off and woke up about a half hour later. Imagine my shock when I realize that an old Indian woman sitting in the seat next to mine(there are about 50 empty seats) is STARING right at me. It startled me for a good minute. For a second, I forgot where I was and just was awed by this really old person with a really wrinkly face looking at me. Of all the open seats, she sat in the middle seat next to me. I didn't mind her staring at me the first time, but every time I woke up, she was openly gawking at me. I tried to make conversation with her, but it was tough. We eventually landed and I smiled to be polite.

I was supposed to land in Mumbai at 12:15am, but ended up getting delayed until 3am. I was freaking out because the University arranged for a car to pick me up. I got through immigrations just fine, but it took forever to get my back from baggage claim. After I got it, I had to go to customs. Being the only non-Indian person in plain view, the guardsmen just let me breeze through. I got to the doorway and saw a couple of guys with name tags. I was crossing my fingers hoping my name was on one of the cards, because i wouldn’t know what i would do if i had to fend for myself here for a night. I had no cell phone, no way of direct contact with people from the school. I would be screwed basically. So I go up to the name plates, and they are for some other people. In my head I'm like oh crapppppppp... But I walk outside, and I get broadsided from a senses point of view. The wet, damp, pungent, mildewy smell hit me right away. As did the heavy rainfall, and smell of BO from the 90 million Indian dudes out there. It was like a scene from rush hour 2, a much uglier scene where chris tucker picks which girl he gets a massage from. I see a placard with my name on it and I point to the gentlman, much to the dismay of the other fellows waiting for their parties. I really wish I could have taken a photo, as it was pretty crazy. It looked like the paparazzi waiting to take a picture of Lindsay Lohan as she walks out of rehab or prison.

Fine, so the guys from the school greet me and they load my crap up into the tiny car the size of a tercel. Luckily it had AC, because the weather is steamy, hot and muggy, you get the picture. Dear god I was scared for my life a second time in one night. There is heavvvvvvy downpouring rain, and the roads are weird. No one pays attentions to the lines in the road, they kind of drive however they want. They drive on the left side of the road, and on the right side of the car. That is all well and fine, but people here drive insanely nutso!! they squeeze into every nick and knack that they can. They dont have mirrors on the side of their cars because they rely on each other to honk at one another. There is constant honking all day everyday. The back of these small delivery tucks say "Please OK honk". So we are squeezing through small holes in traffic at 30mph in the heavy rain, the car is a tin can with tires that have a similar width to bicycle. Fearing the inevitable, I grab onto the latch above the window for dear life. My adventure is only beginning. We make a few turns and they turn down a dark alley that looks like the slums of Kensigton. In fact I wish they were the slums of Kensington, as they are much safer. I'm thinking in my head, damn maybe these guys are scam artists and are going to beat me up and throw me in the alley after robbing me. Or worse, take advantage of my handsome self. I ball my hand in a fist and I remain steadfast and ready to clobber some squishie making kwik-e-mart ass. Just when I'm ready to unlesh the fatal fury of my fist, they joyfully announce we have arrived in the dormitory/hostel. Yes ladies and gentleman I am staying in the hood of mumbai. It so ghetto outside it is a shame. Inside, the place is clean, modern, has interweb, hot water etc etc. I get up to my room, settle in, and I'm so exhausted. My room is shared with Bhuvan, he was born in Delhi but came to the US for college. I finish unpacking and its almost sunrise. I stand at the balcony, (our room is at the end of the hall). Apparently they dont need to protect the hallways from the elements because it nevr gets cold here, hence there are no walls! Our balcony overlooks the street. I see cars, some bicycles, mostly small old school 1970ish third world taxi cars running around, and a bunch of mangy looking dogs in the street.

Pics to follow