Playing in Traffic

Playing in Traffic – June 11, 2012

(Disclaimer, I wrote this entry in a word document on June 11^th before I had access to internet. It will be posted at a later time after I work out a local hotspot option)

This is all really weird because I woke up 24 hours ago, and now I am sitting in a room I’ll live in for the next 5 weeks in downtown Mumbai. The drive from the airport here was everything it promised it would be.

First I went through security without issues until I got to some intermediate customs situation where suddenly I was “searched for gold.” My bags went through a scanner and the guy working there walked up to me, got really close to my face and pointed at my back pack saying, Gold? Gold? Eh… no, sir. Because in truth, I don’t travel that way nor do I EVER carrying around bags of gold. The most valuable thing I am carrying is my laptop, and unless Mac is secretly building macbook pros with gold, I wasn’t carrying anything real. Maybe some fake metal that looked shiny and gold colored… but not gold. I mostly brought my own designs with me here, and I dont trust myself enough to work in gold at this point.

So the Pirate checkpoint continued. Suddenly 5 men in white uniforms were digging through my bracelet pouch and asking me if I was hiding treasure. I kept asking if it was illegal or what the deal was here… I couldn’t tell if this was like a quest: did you bring enough gold/treasure to pass go and get into Mumbai?? Or if this was a weird, not discussed part of culture. Being me, I immediately jumped to a corruption/money laundering control assumption. I mean, it might make sense that they would stop people carrying large amounts of currency in this easily convertible model…

But let’s be honest here: I didn’t have any gold (much to their dismay?) and the two things I had that were gold-colored were definitely a mixed metal material that was not worth anything. And in all honesty, do I look like someone who would launder money? (The correct answer is no, just in case you weren’t sure.) [Side note: while we were on the highway to get here, there was a random sign in the middle of who knows where guiding you across the barrier in the highway to the Anti-Corruption Bureau… odd.]

So I made it past the people seeking treasures from my fraying backpack and found the pre-paid taxi option. I had one of those flashback moments where you know people told you about this multiple time, and then had to remember if this was supposed to be a good or a bad idea. I decided it was good because there was some other concern about random taxis overcharging tourists. And since I don’t speak any Hindi what so ever, I figured I’d go with the easy route.

My taxi and I took off into the highway and I had to catch my breathe before remembering that cars drive on the opposite side of the street here. Another fun thing is that lanes really are just lines painted on the street for the benefit of those being paid to paint them. No one paid any attention to them. Something I found curious and amusing was that everyone honked constantly. Not in the obnoxious and impatient Boston driver way – in a hi I’m here kind of way. I figured out quickly that this was mostly because no one checked their blind spots (since traffic rules seem to be vague suggestions rather than laws, I think looking anywhere except in front of you while you drove would mean certain death) and most cars didn’t have side-view mirrors. It was a way of alerting people to your presence, as you creep down the street in and out between cars.

Then there was the size rules of the road element. Trucks and buses just did whatever they wanted, and those who challenged them be damned. It was game over for you.  The motorcycles and boxed motorcycle-chariot things crept in between cars and trucks at stop lights, all while honking away to let you know they were beside you. One man with one of his eyes gouged out (not recently… but still very visibly) was sitting in the back of a truck watching me through the window. At one of the stop lights we were all but touching and surrounded by car exhaust, which was when he blew me a kiss and the truck turned down a dark and twisting alley way. Odd. I guess that was my first, Welcome to Mumbai, moment?

The rains haven’t started yet – I’m told that I have 3 days. Exciting? I sat with the professor and had coffee after walking down the street and essentially getting my ass skimmed by cars that drove by within a hair of the two of us walking down the street. He was completely immune to any sort of emotions for it, while I think I actually jumped 5 feet in the air when I felt the door of a car narrowly miss me. He kept looking at me while we walked basically in route 9 (for those of you from MA… for everyone else, imagine a busy street where the minimum speed people were moving was around 45 mph) and asking why I looked so uncomfortable. (probably has something to do with the 25 images that Yale health made me watch about people dying in car crashes every few minutes in India)

I felt a little lame in that moment – after all, during the 1.5 hour drive from the airport through various parts of the city, I saw kids riding bikes in the highway between cars. Yup, I’m never going to try that. The funniest part were these young entrepreneurial sorts who had one person pedaling and the other person selling cherries through car windows. ON THE ENTRANCE TO THE HIGHWAY. Dedication. If I liked cherries I would have rewarded their… courage. There were also two guys happily chatting to each other while they dodged 4 lanes of traffic on the highway. My only episode of dodging traffic on the highway was a few years ago when I was running away from a burning van in Mexico City (a strange and never quite solved incident… but clearly I survived!) and it was rather traumatic. Lucky for them they didn’t have drivers honking and yelling vulgar comments and sexually explicit comments at them, that only made it worse (I think I actually did something extremely out of character and yelled something like, Fuck off back at them. It was the adrenaline speaking…), but still. PEOPLE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I’m not sure, Life is Short… dodge traffic, was what anyone had in mind.

The city reminds me distinctly of Mexico City, except that Mexico City doesn’t appear as gritty for quite as long. Yeah, there is grunge. I’m not so disillusioned and enamored with it that I don’t see that. There are many buildings with peeling paid, and huge glass towers next to sheds made of corrugated metal in both cities. It’s also nice here because the air has a distinct flavor to it – it’s spicy and dark, not all together unpleasant. I expected more of the sewage and smoke smell you get as soon as you step out of your plane in the DF. People looked at me with curiosity, instead of the suggestive smile I was so used to in Mexico (AND I DON’T LIKE).  We could see the sky today – in all of its bright blue, 110 degrees of glory! And there were people everywhere regardless of where we were in the city. Walking, playing in the shade, sitting and chatting… It was really cool to see! I do miss speaking and understanding the language though. That was a serious plus. A lot of people speak English here, which is easier for me but I’m also in that delirious WHAT ARE THESE LETTERS ON THE SIGN AND WHY CANT I READ THEM phase,. That is until I remember where I am and don’t feel bad for not being able to read Hindi anymore.

So for now, I came here, unpacked and actually passed out facedown with a book open next to me until there was a knock at the door and my professor was here to make sure I had survived the journey here (yeah… it was fine… now in retrospect I wonder what he thought was going to happen. While I break into a cold sweat standing next to every moving vehicle in the planet passing just a hair away from me, he was so relaxed and in his element… what was supposed to have happened in my journey from the airport…?) I was not appropriately dressed to be outside (see… I was wearing shorts and a tshirt. I was told quickly this afternoon to always cover my legs unless I wanted to be groped [yes. Groped. Apparently its still pretty common, even when I’ll be trying to cross the street or something. Super.] or cat called incessantly. It looks like it will be leggings and pants for the whole trip! I wouldn’t mind if it was… you know… not 100 degrees everyday, but whatever this is better than the alternative).

We’re living in the “white part” of the city, as my professor put it. Meaning, the older, rich, Colonial part of the city. And the difference between buildings is visible between this part and the “native part.” It feels older, darker… almost more jungle like here. More trees and such anyway. While we were walking down the street he pointed to the Taj hotel and the restaurant/café here that has become a famous tourist space because a few years ago there was a terrorist attack in the building that killed a dozen or so people there. He gave a half smile while he mentioned it and said, isn’t it strange how these things become tourist sites? I am fairly certain my face said, …Cool..? and that’s about it.

I’ll add photos as soon as I can take them and actually know what I am talking about. When I say I passed out earlier, I mean I promised myself I was not going to sleep and then all but died. Tomorrow I am going to venture out and find a sim card for my phone (apologizes in advance – if I had your number by freshman year of College, and you get a random WEIRD hour of the day call from me its because I am back to my crazy phone that calls people without my consent and doesn’t tell me about it… I tried to wipe the memory so hopefully this wont happen… but you’ve been warned.)

And in my usual bizarre fashion, I am now going to go back to reading about Colombia until my roommate gets here… or I fall asleep. Probably the second option given how weird my body clock is right now and the fact that I already passed out and managed to sleep through my alarm for THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE. Actually. But that’s what happens when you decide sleeping is for the weak on an entire day’s worth of flights… I am foolish.

Onward! Till later.