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