I'm Going to Delhi

I have turned into an incredibly indecisive person and its not a quality that I'd ever wish upon anyone. After having decided to hang around Mumbai and enroll in an intense 10-day meditation course, I did a little grocery shopping, and walked home. As I thought more about staying in Mumbai and participating in the meditation course, the less thrilled I became. The meditation course seemed far too intense for me--10 days of up at 4am, meditation 6 times a day, only 2 meals, and the real clincher was the maintenance of absolute silence. No music, no talking, and no writing (this is considered a distraction from the external environment!). It would be just me and myself, alone, silent, for 10 longs days. While I want to explore meditation, I don't think I'm quite ready to jump into something that intense. And so, while stuffing myself with peanut butter and honey sandwiches, fresh mangoes, and chai, I made the decision to just go. And so, a few hours later I was down at the Churchgate Station Tourist Reservation Counter, and the incredibly sweet, accommodating, and reassuring woman behind the counter pulled a few strings and somehow got me a ticket on the Rajdhani Express, India's nicest and fastest train. With only 2 hours before departure time, I sprinted to catch the next train back to the suburbs, packed my bag, took a quick shower, and made it to Borivali Station with 20 minutes to spare! So tonight, I'll ride in luxury up to Delhi and arrive by 11am. I love how things are starting to play out!

A Rough Day

I am having one of those days, overwhelmed and frustrated with this morning's turn of events that tears seem to be my only comforting release. Vibhu left late last night for Germany and after much deliberation and planning, I decided I would catch the train this evening for Delhi. I arrived at the Goreogon Station Passenger Reservation Counter by 8am hoping to beat the long queues that the train stations are notorious for, but of course, my arrival was superseded by at least 100 other people with the same idea. I filled out a reservation slip and got in line. Unfortunately I chose the line which gives senior citizens and people with physical disabilities the right to bypass all other waiting passengers and proceed directly to the front of the queue. I waited patiently for an hour before reaching the ticket counter, only to be unexpectedly informed that if I want to purchase a ticket under the Foreign Tourist quota (and therefore be guaranteed a seat since all other tickets had been filled and the waiting list was already over 150 people long)I'd have to go to Churchgate Station. Not Bandra, not Dadar, no Mumbai Central. But Churchgate, the last train station in Mumbai and over an hour from my current location. Devastated, I walked out of the reservation office. Determined to get one of the two remaining foreign tourist tickets on tonight's train to Delhi, I waited in another queue to purchase a ticket to Churchgate Station. By this time it was 9:20 am and the peak of rush hour on Mumbai's commuter trains. Trying to board a southbound train at this hour is absolutely suicidal. Each and every carriage bulged with people, men rode fearlessly on the tops of the carriages and hung precariously off the sides and rear. I tried once to board the ladies only carriage, pushing and fighting my way up to the train, only to watch a woman get trampled as she lost her footing. The train pulled away leaving behind a mob of 15 agitated women who weren't able to squeeze their way onto the train. I was among them. Still determined to get on a train, I tried for the First Class carriage on the next train that pulled into the station. But again, my determination wasn't strong enough to wrestle and push my way through the masses of Indian men trying to make their way to work. Frustrated and hungry I stopped by a concession stand for a samosa and mango juice. Big mistake. I've been dealing with intestinal cramping for the past few days, the kind that comes on so suddenly you find yourself lurching for a toilet, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as the urgency of the situation claws at you. I needed to get home. And so, after a difficult rickshaw ride home and a butt-clenching sprint up to Vibhu's flat, the contents of last night's dinner and this morning's train station snack emptied violently into the Indian-style squat toilet. As I washed my hands, I met my gaze in the mirror. Overwhelmed, frustrated, and defeated, tears rolled down my cheeks. And so here I am now, alone in Vibhu's flat, with no ticket to Delhi, hesitant to attempt traveling too far from home until my insides mellow out a bit, and with no one to talk to. I don't know what to do. I want my mom, I wish Vibhu was here, or Jen or Paula or Beatriz. I want a big hug from Michelle or my dad. I feel so weak and pathetic. What's my problem?!?

Ok, so I'm feeling better. It's about an hour later and after a good sob, a few bites of chocolate, and some comforting music, I've got my head on straight again. I'd go down to Churchgate Station, buy the ticket for Delhi and leave in the next day or two, but I'm running out of time. I need to be back in Mumbai on May 19, and with a minimum of 2 full days of travel just to get up to the northern towns that I want to visit to practice meditation and yoga, I'd be left with just enough time to enroll in a 10-day course before coming back to Mumbai. It's just too rushed. So, I'm going to explore a few more options available around Mumbai and stay here. I've tried on numerous occasions over the past few days to book a ticket out of Mumbai and each time I am faced with a new set of obstacles that has prohibited me from booking. I'm going to take that as a sign that I'm supposed to stay here. I'm going to quit fighting fate and just see what comes, one day at a time.

Pictures of Jaipur and Pushkar

So I arrived this morning and after a good scrubbing in the shower, Vibhu fixed me my all-time favorite breakfast--egg-in-a-hole-in-a-toast--a treat perfected by my papa and one that I've shared with my friends here in Mumbai. Vibhu has mastered the art of this egg and toast breakfast, despite the lack of lemon pepper available in India, the secret ingredient that makes it absolutely irresistible! Sliced mango and a hot cup of sweet, milky chai rounded out the breakfast and soon enough I felt my eyes getting heavy with the sleepless night afforded to me by the train, and I slept. A satisfyingly heavy, dreamless sleep. It's so good to be home!

Oh and here are my pictures from Pushkar and Jaipur!

Back in Mumbai

I am so happy to be back in Mumbai! I realized during my stint up north that while I wanted to travel and be out on my own again, I wasn't completely honest with my reasons. I did crave the excitement and adventure, but once I left, I was quickly reminded of the lineliness of solo traveling. Also I feel compelled, obligated to do and see as much as possible while I am here. Not for myself, but for the people following my blog--for my family and friends who are living vicariously through me. I feel like I've been a let down during my weeks in Mumbai--no daily entries, no exciting stories, and no new adventures. I've been utterly self indulgent, sleeping late and lazing around the house, watching movies and hanging out with friends--but what about the people at home? I feel like I need to give them something to hang on to. And so for a variety of reasons, I headed north, only to wind up missing my life in Mumbai and weighted down by impending sickness. I'm glad I went up to Rajasthan, and have absolutely no regrets for going, or for coming back. Leaving felt right at the time, despite how hard it was, but coming back was the best decision I've made in a while.

Pushkar and Jaipur

I woke up this morning with a terrible headache, a sore throat, and an aching body. I couldn't drag myself out of bed until nearly 9am despite having gone to sleep before 10pm. I have absolutely no desire or motivation to do anything today, and really wish that I was back in Mumbai. My brain feels groggy and congested, and the flies swarming around my head and playing at my feet are making me crazy! I wish I could just shake this crappy feeling away! Maybe a cup of chai will cure me?!?

After spending the day walking around Pushkar and later Jaipur in a gloomy daze made worse by intense heat of the desert sun and a stubborn stomach ache, I decided that I'm going to go back to Mumbai. Mumbai has become a second home to me, and at least there I can be sick but comfortable, and I will have Vibhu to take care of me. The physical exhaustion I feel has completely dissoved all of the excitement I had to travel again and has made even my beloved past-time of exploring small towns and villages seem like an incredibly daunting task. So tomorrow, if I can survive the het of the night here in Jaipur (its nearly 8:30pm and still 32 degrees C) I'll catch the train back to Mumbai (and yes, this time I have a confirmed seat!). Hopefully after a few days I'll be feeling better and ready to hit the road again!

Leaving Mumbai for Rajasthan

Tears rolled down my cheeks as the train pulled out of Bandra statino. Memories of the happiness I found in Mumbai flooded my mind-- the laughter, the friends, trips to Lovanla, to Water Kingdom, and to Elephanta Island, coffee at Barista, quiz night at Zenzi, late-night chai with Manu and Rahul, perfecting my roti making skills in a suffocatingly hot kitchen, breakfasts with Vibhu, daily soduko with Rahul, hours and hours of VH1, MTV, and HBO, drinks at Toto's, and dinner in Bandra, grocery shopping at HyperCity, and my daily fix of pineapple, orange, and sugarcane juices. Leaving was much harder than I had expected it to be.

Against the concern of Vibhu and Rahul, I decided to travel to Udaipur on a wait list ticket, meaning I'd get a seat if one became available. And for an overnight journey, a seat is a definite plus! I boarded the train and Vibhu spoke to a family seated nearby to ensure that they'd look after me and help me to find a seat. We said our goodbyes, and the tears started almost immediately. I felt like I was leaving a piece of me behind.

A few hours into the journey, the ticket collector came through our carriage and told me that after the 10pm stop I could sit in seat #50. And so after a dinner of snacks from various stations and a cup of chai, I settled into seat $50, prepared my bed and was lulled to sleep by the gentle swaying and rocking of the train. Around 3am I was jostled awake by a man tugging on my hair, shoving his ticket in my face. Blurry-eyed and still drifting on the shores of sleep, I focused on the ticket that was being held much too close to my face, and soon realized that I was in his seat. There was no denying it, he had a confirmed ticket and I didn't. I had to move. I gathered up my sarong and shawl, pulled my backpack off the berth, and drowsily wandered multiple train carriages in search of a place to sleep. Every berth was full with two and even three people, families huddled on the floor, and mounds of luggage took up any remaining possible space in the cramped train. Defeated, I found a small space on the floor between two families, and pushing my backpack underneath a seat, I laid out my sarong, and using my purse as a pillow and my shawl to shield my eyes from the florescent lights, I tried to drift back to sleep. Surprisingly, the hard floor and the cramped space I wedged myself into provided a cozy cocoon for a few hours of relatively uninterrupted sleep. I woke to a sore hip, a numb arm, and the sight of a portuly man lowering himself from an upper-berth, his feet destined for my head. Once the train begins to stir awake, there's no more sleep to be had. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, folded up my bedding, and looked for a cup of chai to drown away the sleepy-fog that filled my head.

Somehow between enjoying afew cups of chai, brushing my teeth and splashing my face with water, I managed to miss my stop. Sitting by a window and diligently inspecting each station its its identity, I realized something was wrong when I spotted a street sign indicating that Udaipur was 123km is the opposite direction. A few minutes later, the train rolled to a stop at Ajmer Junction, the final destination of the train. I frantically tore through my guidebook to figure out where I'd ended up and was relieved to see that the tiny town of Pushkar was only 11km away. Pushkaris about half-way between Udaipur and Jaipur, and is frequented by tourists in search of respite from the chaos of Delhi and Jaipur. Pushkar is also a major pilgrimage center and devout Hindus are expected to dip in the waters here at least once in their lifetime. The town's sacred atmosphere, picturesque surroundings, and mela-induced fame make it the perfect place to start my journey to the north.

Rajasthan is a place of romantic desert dreams--camels and elephants mosey alongside cars and traffic, turbaned men twirl foot long moustaches, and women in brightly colored saris balance water jugs on their heads. Yet despite the money that tourism brings here, Rajasthan grapples with India's lowest literacy rate, and immense caste and gender inequalities.

I'm Feeling Antsy!

I'm reading a fantastic book right now, Shantaram. It's the true story of Greg Roberts, an escaped convict who makes a life for himself in Bombay. Living in the slums, he writes of his experiences with such vivid candor that I found myself falling in love with India all over again. I've met a handful of travelers who claim the sole reason they are in India is because of the inspiration they gathered from this book. It really is that good!

The past few days I've been feeling antsy, like my time in Bombay is up. It's been a great 4 weeks, but the promise of adventure and excitement of the north is beckoning me to pack my bag, hop on the train, and continue to do what I love most. The domestic life I've led since arriving in Bombay is exactly what I needed, a break from the constant motion and unknown of the life of a backpacker, but my heart is aching for that again. For long train rides, cheap, dirty street food, grimy hotel rooms, absolute freedom from the insecurities that creep back into my life when surrounded by all of the negative aspects of the importation of western culture. I want to climb mountains, explore deserts, and wade through the deepest, darkest parts of my soul at an ashram. It's time for me to leave Bombay, but I'll be back. It's comforting to know that saying goodbye is just temporary, that in 4 weeks I can settle into life here again. But the next goodbye is going to be much harder. Saying goodbye on May 26 is going to be heartbreaking.

Finally...Pictures!

You guys have no idea how much trouble getting these photos posted has been! You'd think that Mumbai, being India's most cosmopolitan city would have decent internet connections, but no. For the past two weeks, I've tried countless internet cafes, and if I was lucky enough to find a place with a connection moving faster than a lethargic turtle, it would cut out on me half way through the download or the queue to use the computers was so long I would have spent the entire day waiting in line. So finally, here they are, photos from the past 6 weeks...from the hill stations of Kodaikanal and Ooty, to the hot and sticky coastal town of Cochin, to my home for the past 4 weeks, Mumbai. There are quite a few photos missing since my camera stopped working while I was in Hampi and it didn't decide to start working again until AFTER the colorful festivities of Holi, but nevertheless, the photos are posted. So enjoy!

An Afternoon at the Movies

Yesterday wanting to escape the heat and monotony of hanging out at home, Kelly (a couchsurfer from Australia) and I decided to go to the movies. We chose a theater quite far from home because it was still showing the film Juno, and a thought provoking, English language film was our top priority. We made the journey down to Bandra over incessant talk of air conditioning, fresh movie popcorn, and the exciting anticipation of a great film. When we arrived, the guy at the ticket counter informed us that Juno was no longer showing and that the newspaper listings that we had relied on were in fact, unreliable. Disappointed, we begrudgingly decided on Wedding Daze, the only other film showing at the same time. The newspaper review gave it zero stars, so my hopes of watching an award winning film were slashed. We entered the theater expecting our noses to be bombarded with the enticing, drool creating aroma of movie theater popcorn, hot and freshly buttered with a dash of salt, our ears to be tantalized by the slurping of sweet, refreshing Cokes served straight from the fountain, and our bodies to shiver with goosebumps with the assault of air conditioned air. But instead, the entry was dark, quiet, and all together uninviting. We followed the arrows leading up a set of grungy, overused stairs, misread our tickets and walked unsuspectingly into a film that had already started before being briskly escorted out by the usher, and continued down the hall to find snacks. Small plastic bags of popcorn lined the snack stand along with a few pathetic looking packages of biscuits, and ancient, dusty bottles of Coke and 7Up. Not quite the refreshments I'd been aching for, but you come to expect the unexpected in India. At least here the entertainment industry hasn't caught onto the Western trend of charging a small fortune for theater snacks! We proceeded to the theater and were led to our assigned seats. My brown, patent leather, reclining chair was a little too keen to recline as I struggled to keep my head out of the lap of the guy behind me. The tiny theater was expertly decorated in 70's tackiness--neon peg boards randomly assigned to wall space, flashing tube lighting outlined the screen, and of course the torn, sticky, artificially brilliant lounges added the final touch of outdated wannabe glamour. The movie began without any previews and instantly turned bad. Bad acting, a horribly overdone story line, and blatantly unnecessary scenes tempted me to get up and walk out. But I hung in there, devouring my little bag of Indian Masala popcorn as the movie got uncomfortably bad and didn't leave until the credits rolled. Lets just say that I was embarrassed to be an American sitting in a room full of young Indians as this movie did great injustice to the reality of life in America.

As we walked out of the theater, one sideways glace was all it took for Kelly and I to lose ourselves in a fit of laughter over the utter ridiculousness of the theater experience. To add to it all, the movie ended at the peak of rush hour and attempting to ride the trains between 3pm and 8pm is an act of lunacy. We pushed, shoved, and elbowed our way onto the train, just barely securing one foot and a decent handhold before it departed. We hung off the side of the train for the duration of the 30 minute trip, fighting relentlessly at each station to keep our spots. Bickering could be heard throughout the train carriage was women jostled for elbow room, breathing room, any uninhabited space, as they endured the sweltering, suffocating heat of the carriage. We at least had the breeze of fresh air, despite the difficulty of hanging off the side of a train while dodging lamp posts, construction materials, and the extended hands of men wandering the railroad tracks. What else can I say about the afternoon but, TII...This is India!

Observations of Mumbai

India is a country of extremes--of poverty and unimaginable wealth, of 21st century innovations and generations old practices, of astounding, vibrant colors and of depressingly brown, grey, and lifeless perils. Mumbai is a city that packs all of these extremes into 60km of unending chaos. Corrugated tin, plastic sheeting, and bamboo polls strewn together create acres and acres of slums towered over by sheek, glitsy million dollar flats. Piles of nausea inducing waste is picked over by women in beautiful crimson, blue, and gold saris, emaciated dogs, and shoeless, filthy children. Mercedes congested streets stretch into the dirty, heat hazed sunsets amidst the beggars, trendy teens, and the next generation of billionaires. Loud processions of drums, dancing, fire, and water make their way through neighborhoods paying homage to a god, a deity, or some other religious symbol. Cows wander aimlessly and dogs sleep soundly, unfazed by the unrelenting rickshaws swerving narrowly to miss the unassuming creatures of the street. Exotic languages tumble from the lips of men embraced in friendship and commrodarie. White-toothed smiles of women and the endearing waves of fine limbed children greet me on the bulging trains, the grocery store aisles, and everywhere in between. It's beautiful, it's ugly, its hot, sticky, and filthy. It's tortured and celebrated by a long, rich, and captivating culture. It's sprinting towards modernization and stuck in the past. It's full of mind numbing excess and depressing leanness. It's a city that ceases to amaze me and has forever changed me. It's Indian's greatest city, it's Mumbai.

Mumbai Phone Number

UPDATED PHONE NUMBER: I posted the wrong number yesterday, sorry!

In order to cut down on roaming charges I'll be using a friend's SIM card while I am in Mumbai. I change my mind everyday as to my plans, but for now I will be in Mumbai for another few weeks. Sorry for being unreachable for the past few days, but you should be able to get through now! Hugs.

011-91-9920830294

Dona

PS. I PROMISE to post photos soon :)

Sanjay Gandhi National Park

Yesterday Manu took me out to Sanjay Gandhi National Park, just a few minutes north of his house. When I think National Park, images of vast, open expanses, highly regulated conservation efforts, and plenty of wildlife come to mind. But this National Park was not that at all--it was more of a family amusement park, complete with playgrounds for the kids, vendors selling junk food, and a toy train ride. Couples strolled hand in hand along the shaded cement paths, kids fed the ducks along the litter infested creek, and families maneuvered their way around a man-made pond in paddle boats. Inside the park, villagers went about their daily routines, unfazed by the constant stream of Indian tourists, high rise apartment complexes peered over the chain-link fence boundary of the park, providing a reminder that the expansive development of Mumbai was just a stones throw away. The National Park's (I'm not sure I should even be allowed to call it that!) biggest draw are the Kanheri caves. Carved into the rock face in the 1st century by Buddhist monks, the deterioration of the caves from over exposure to human trampling has left them as little more than holes in the wall. There were 2 giant Buddha's that were pretty impressive though. After climbing in, on, and around the caves, and ultimately contributing to their demise, Manu and I went of a "Tiger Safari." This too was like a ride at an amusement park. We boarded an army green bus with young mothers, their screaming children, and overly enthusiastic fathers, and set off to find some tigers. Initially I was a little confused and worried. Thinking that because this is a National Park, I figured the tigers would be left to freely roam, but considering that people actually lived in and around the park, I was concerned for their safety. But as we turned a corner and a giant, Jurassic Park type fence slowly opened its protective barrier, I understood. We drove through the enclosure, peering in forced excitement through the bus windows in anticipation of seeing a tiger. The bus came to a screeching halt as the passengers erupted into a series of oohs and ahhs, as we watched a white tiger lazily stroll through his habitat before dipping himself in a pool of water. We drove through a few of these gated enclosures spotting tigers and lions (I had no idea lions were native to India. I thought they were an African exclusive!) before heading back to our starting point. Other than the families of cunning, begging monkeys that seem to have permeated all of India, the caged cats were the only animals we saw. I'd have to say that Sanjay Gandhi National Park is little more than an overhyped zoo, and not exactly deserving of National Park status!

An Update from Mumbai

It's hard to believe that its the last day of March. I left home just as winter was setting in and now, the cold, dreary days of winter have passed to make way for the fresh, vibrant, colorful and exciting start of spring. I love spring. I crisp, freshness of the air, the brilliantly blue skies, the explosion of color in the trees, grass, and flowers. It's hard to believe I've been gone long enough to miss an entire season of the NBA, long enough to have missed birthdays and anniversaries, going away parties and births. But its only been 5 months. A drop in the bucket, a tiny ripple in the tide of my life. Yet, these 5 months have changed me in ways that are significant beyond comprehension.

Another week has come and gone in Mumbai, and yesterday I took a leap of faith and decided to stay here for the remainder of my time in India. I have connected with a local track coach who I will be assisting a few days a week, sharing with young girls my passion for athletics, and hopefully instilling that same love in them. I am also in contact with a few NGO's in the area and in the process of selecting one that is a good fit for me. I'm still staying with Manu and Rahul, and although they have warmly and generously insisted that I stay with them for the next 6 weeks, I've been spending more and more time with Vihbu in order to lessen my presence in their home so as not to overstay my welcome.

Vihbu has become my best friend here. He is someone who I felt an instant connection with, someone who I am convinced I have known before. Few words need to be exchanged between us, but conversation flows so naturally and endlessly. We laugh and joke, debate and analyze. He will be a lifelong friend and someone I will miss dearly when I leave.