Playing in Traffic – June 11, 2012
(Disclaimer, I wrote this entry in a
word document on June 11th 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.
