For Everyone Obsessed with Mac

And even if you aren't...I still wanna take a minute to talk about the upcoming release of the Apple's IPhone. Everyone I know is going ape-shit in anticipation of this thing, and for good reason. It's the trendiest lil' gadget that does everything except poop and cry for it's mommy. Is it a phone? is it an Ipod? Is it an internet device? Does it take pictures?!? Who cares?!?! I want it. I want it.

Sure, there's a ton of things to be said about this phone, but I'm going to leave that to the experts and nerds. I just want it.

• Official Apple site


• the Tao of Mac


***UPDATE: It's out, I've played with it, I still want it...butI'm going to wait until version 2 comes out. This will let them get all the kinks out and allow me to finish out the remainder of my contract :)

2007: And Still No Flying Cars

I've started back at work once again. In case some of you don't know me, I'm a TV Producer. Trust me, it sounds way more interesting than it is. That's because though I love the documentary format, I don't really make documentaries. I make reality TV, which is an entirely different beast. Now you're probably thinking to yourself that I've sold my soul to the devil, and you may be right. Most reality shows are mere launching points for wannabe stars who indulge in narcissism and hubris. But what I like about what I do is that the format fits my short attention span very well. I get to learn things and then move on to something else. So now I'm working at a production company that wants to develop some ideas and they hired me to figure out it these ideas have the potential to become shows. One of their interests is a highschool baseball team. As some of you know, I did a sizzle reel for E! Entertainment on the softball pitcher Jennie Finch and her then-fiance Casey Daigle from the Arizona Diamondbacks - I called it Pitcher Perfect (my favorite title ever). Anyway it didn't get picked up.
Yet even with my past record of NOT successfully selling a baseball show, I now found myself spending most of the afternoon today at a highschool baseball field watching a group of sophmores and seniors practice. I learned some new things about baseball (which isn't hard considering I have, until now, remained blissfully ignorant of the sport). And now I am doing some heavy thinking about what kind of project I can make out of these kids and their lives. The creative process is a strange thing: part of it requires me to sit back and do other things while some portion of my brain is busily solving the artistic details. But of course it's a multi-layered process, so there is much revising. Here's an analogy: it's sort of like I've got a little granny up there and I just give her some material and close the door and when I've opened it up again, there she stands with a completed quilt in her tiny, wrinkled hands. I look at it and pretend I like what she made, and then I take all the material apart and reassemble it again into something I can actually use. Yep, that's the artist's process.

Robert Parke Harrison

For anyone who loves photography or great artwork, let me introduce you to Robert Parke Harrison. His work deals with the plight of the planet and man's relationship to it. He is a master of landscape - one in which the earth is represented by emotive objects that expunge the line between man and his world, yet masterfully suggest the chaos of his effect on it. Robert blends a variety of mediums together in unique ways; photography with sculptural, painted and performance elements all done in collage style. The work is evocative and layered without hitting you over the head with its message. His imagery is other-worldly, yet its nod to early photography is also evident. I hope you enjoy his work as much as I do.

Photos courtesy of Robert Parke Harrison and http://www.decordova.org

Film Studies?

Okay, so the last week or two since my return from India has been relaxing. I spent the first week back in the lovely state of Oregon (I hate it there) where I visited an old friend. We hung out, enjoyed the cold, and watched a lot of movies. After that, I flew to California to visit my best friend Suzanne. We hung out, enjoyed the cold and watched a lot of movies. Now I've got a couple days and then it's back to the work grind.

So I've been thinking about going back to school. I've been thinking I'd like to teach. I don't have to go back to school to do it, but seeing as I have no confidence in my intelligence, I thought getting my PhD would be a sort of HAHA to myself.

Anyway, V thought it would be helpful for me to attend a conference or two and meet some people, to help me decide if it's really what I want to do. So I did a little research and I've decide to go to a Cinema and Media Studies conference in March. We'll see how it goes.

Update

So folks, I've been using this blog the last couple of weeks for my trip to India. Now that I'm back in the lovely USofA, I'm thinking I'll keep posting to the blog, but I'm going to update it so that it's not dedicated only to the trip. If you've come to this site looking for pictures of the India trip or journal entries, just read entries for December 2006.

Delhi Belly and All things A 'Goan

Well kids, night has fallen on my last day in India. As I say farwell to my 35th year I also bid the strange and exotic land of Hindustan goodbye. Mostly I am sad to leave Goa, as I could have spent quite a bit more time there. In the end, my trip to Goa was too short, and in fact, we ended up only visiting one beach, and that for only an hour or so. I've never been to any beach like it though - there was loud trance music coming from the bar shown in the picture - people were dancing as if it was midnight in Paris and didn't seem to care - I was trying to capture a shot of one particularly interesting guy. He was about 55 with a big bloated beer belly and the tiniest white thong swimsuit you'd ever seen. There were lots of interesting exotic people to people watch there.
Yesterday after seeing Vidhu safely off, Rohit and I acquainted ourselves further with the moped by driving aimlessly around Anjuna for the better part of the day. We wanted to find a good masseuse to try the traditional Indian style of ayurvedic massage, but Rohit wanted to find a women to apply his and so we drove around aimlessly checking out the oh at least 20 massage centers. That took up a good part of the day, since none of the women seemed to want to massage a guy, so we finally gave up and visited a 'Western' style center (the only one in town) which is called appropriately "Zanadu Day Spa" and is owned by an American woman with long flowing dreadlocks and a strange Australian accent. With a name like Zanadu, I couldn't resist. And also by that time I had started to feel some trepidation based in part with my previous experience of having had a massage in India that was part relaxing touch, part strange groping that would have been awkward if I wasn't so out of commission with my Delhi Belly.
After our massages, Rohit and I went to the German Bakery, a famous spot in Anjuna known for it's banana nut pancakes, shown above. I couldn't resist having them spread chocolate syrup all over those puppies, though I felt guilty enough that I also ordered a shot of wheat grass. So healthy! The great thing about this bakery besides it's ambiance and great food is that they also have wireless connection for your computer, so you can lounge all day, drinking real espresso, nibbling on pastries and mango smoothies while you read some of the books they leave out in a multitude of languages, listen to funky trance music and surf the internet. Ah, I love the 21st century!!

Spices and Other Exotic Things

So right now I'm having the vacation of a lifetime here in Anjuna. Yesterday we went to a Goan spice farm that was set in a 200 acre forest. The way in was over a small wooden footbridge that lead across a lake and into a thatched hut building. The entire place smelled of spices (though mostly from the buffet they were cooking) which was served on banana leaves. We ate the tasty meal of Chipatis, rice, Dal and some kind of coconut beans and picked fresh bananas off of some hanging banana stocks. We sampled the local firewater called "feni" served in coconut shells and which smells like sweet rubbing alcohol. It's made from fermented palm or coconut juice and is 40 percent proof and it'll put hair on your chest.
After lunch we got a 45 minute tour from a very amusing tour guide - he showed us how they grow pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg, chiles, lemon grass and cardamon. We tastes samples of leaves, bark, etc., and Rohit was man enough to try the local equivalent of cigarettes (which no one smokes) because they prefer to a chew beetal nut mixture of cloves, cardamon, beetal nuts and lime powder. It's supposed to be highly addictive and turns your mouth red. He put it in his mouth and after a minute or two, threw it up in the bushes. Everyone laughed.
After the tour we watched a small man climb a coconut tree in about a minute and then swing from tree to tree. That was really cool. At the end of a tour, we were promised a little 'surprise'. As I was at the front of the line, I got to get my little 'surprise' first. I was told to turn around...and I have to admit, I had no idea what was coming. What I got was a very cold laddle of water down my back. You can see from my perfectly captured expression that I was shocked. Vidhu squeeked a little, she was so surprised by the cold.
After our tour we visited Panjim, the capital of Goa and walked around - we had the spiciest dinner yet in India, eating Goan Kingfish in curry sauce. By the end of the meal our eyes and noses were watering. Luckily we also had Kingfish beer to wash it down. The restaurant was called Viva Panjim and was tucked away in a side street, sandwiched between old Portuguese houses. Strings of christmas lights and cobbled stone lined the walkway where we sat. It was very picturesque. It took us forever to find the place, but once we did, it was well worth it.
The rest of Panjim was fun - mostly we walked around looking at jewelry stores. Some of the architecture was really beautiful, very reminiscent of Portugual or Spain, with a decidedly European flare. Like this building, which is a gigantic structure to remind people of the crushing power of the Catholic church.
That evening we returned to the hotel and crashed. Vidhu's been sick lately and had to fly back to Mumbai today to meet up with the producers. She's also going to tour a Bollywood studio, which should be fun. I opted to stay in Goa with Rohit to continue relaxing...and because I'm in love with the tiny reese monkey Chives who lives at the hotel. When I visit him he preens my hair for fleas, and afterwards shares his back with me so that I can preen his. He's obviously very smart as well, since the hotel owners tell me he has particular tastes regarding humans and doesn't like everyone.
Anyway, today Rohit rented a moped, which we are now driving around (we're absolutely crazy, because I read a statistic that said here in Goa an average of one person dies each day on the roads and many of them are tourists). I'm driving and as this was a British colony, I'm driving on the opposite side of the road, and it takes a little getting used to. But the advantage is getting to avoid the 200 rps charge for a taxi everytime we want to go somewhere (the rental fee is 300 a day). Anyway, Rohit and I are going to go get a massage and then head to a beach to parasail for the rest of the afternoon. Later, I've got a date with the hotel pool and a good book. Can't wait!!!

Goa

So Vidhu, Rohit and I are in Goa now, having a relaxing, splendid time. After a 12 hour train ride from Mumbai in which we gorged ourselves on the food and drink that was constantly being offered us by roaming attendants "MASALA CHAI, GALUB JULUM, COFFEE, LASSI..." we broke up the monotony of eating with sleep. We met a lovely Indian family, traveling to Goa to visit relatives. They were an oddity here, in that they were of different castes, she a Goan Christian while he is Hindu, nevertheless a happy couple now residing in Dubai. The husband, Ginesh (sp) offered us Bacardi rum, and seeing that no one wanted any, I (being the ever vivilant hospitable neighborly type) couldn't let the man drink alone, so we downed a couple of rather tiny cups of rum and cokes (which aided in my getting some deep sleep on the very jerky, loud train). I hadn't had a drop of liquor since the plane ride almost 3 weeks ago. Needless to say later that night my broken toe had blown up to the size of an angry red sausage and I've got a rather strange bump under the knuckle where no bump should be. It's really gross.

Anyway, it was good to be out of Mumbai, and the further away we traveled from it, the cleaner the air smelled and felt, the more relaxed I got. They had a very cool bathroom on the train, it was Indian style hole-in-the-ground, but instead of leading to a noxious cavity of rotting poopies it was just a hole that spit out it's contents onto the train tracks that raced by underneath. It was an exciting experience to watch my pee fly away at 40 miles an hour, and sometimes I went to the potty just to see if I could aim it enough to get it to fly out without hitting the sides of the shoot. Unfortunately, I was barely able to keep the pee from hitting my ankles and feet, let alone aim it straight while being jostled around in a squatting position. It just took too much skill. Nevertheless the main advantage of the Indian style toilet that is sans container is that the typical "toilet side" smell that has till now accompanied our train voyages was missing.

Rohit just commented to me that I wrote an entire paragraph about peeing. Perhaps not the most interesting subject for anyone who happens to read this. Oh well!

Anyway, next I'll tell you guys about the spice farm we went to today and the hotel with the pet monkey named Chives. More later.

The picture of the four poster bed is my hotel room in Goa, the Tamarind Hotel. Really nice.

The Golden Triangle

In Jaipur, we learned that our Delhi flight that night to Mumbai had been delayed, and that meant more time to explore, so we stopped at a little-known ruins called Amber Fort. It was set high in the hills, overlooking the city, and there were very few white tourists (that's because we could find no mention of the place in the Lonely Planet guide and only a passing mention in the Rough Guide which was also unflattering). It turned out to be V's and my favorite tourist spot. Maybe it was because it was so run down, or maybe it was because no one cared where you went once you were inside - everything was open to the public. We were left to explore (and get lost) on our own. It was a really huge structure, spread out like a village with living quarters, gardens and towers. Some of the rooms were tiny, but many had ornate paintings and windows. Like the one in the picture with the doves.
Some of the structure looking vaguely like a place of worship, though that is only a guess on my part - perhaps it was merely the room used by people of higher ranks. Anyway, this one section was lined in mirrors so I took a picture of Vidhu gazing into one. You can see my arm behind her.
Even though there were many people there that day, when we went off on our own we almost got lost. One thing I found amusing was the hallways were quite narrow, but then the steps were so high, even I had trouble walking up or down them. Maybe the Indians used to have long legs but the rest of their bodies were short. The garden shown here was actually the most maintained element of the fortress. The rows of stone were a pattern that was repeated elsewhere in the design of the structure. I have no idea what the significance was of this pattern, as there wasn't any literature or writing anywhere that explained it. You can see how detailed the artwork on the walls is in the picture of us here.

Taj Mahal

Yesterday we visited the Taj Mahal, it was crazy big. My stomach has been upset so I've had to lay off spicy foods the last week, it's hard to do, but it's important since bathrooms are getting scarce.
We're traveling the Golden Triangle, which is the triumvirate of Delhi, Agra (Taj Mahal) and Jaipur - it's the most common route tourists take when visiting India. We're on our way to Jaipur, known as the pink city. It's the capital of the state of Rajastan, Indias largest state located in the Northwest. We hired a private car to drive us from Delhi and we'll be traveling thus for the next couple of days. We're traveling with V's family, they're very nice, though it's been a long time since they've been here so they're as much of tourists as we are :)
Rajastan is very different from Delhi. We're out in the desert here, and as we drive along, we pass camels painted in bright colors and hauling carts of goods or people. Indians love color and the more decorative things are, the better. Even the big commercial trucks are painted in bright shades of blue, yellow and red, with writing and markings on every side with flowers and dodads hanging from mirrors, windows, etc.
It's less crowded here, and I'm getting my first view of the Indian countryside - small huts nestled in fields of yellow flowers. I'm not sure what plant it is that is in season, but they look like mustard plants (though when we took a closer look, we discovered that it isn't mustard, but we're not sure what it is). We're going to spend one day traveling in Jaipur before a rushed 6 hour drive back to Delhi to catch our late night flight to Mumbai. We only had time to stop off at one fort outside the downtown of Jaipur, an amazing place where people just wander around. There aren't any nooks or crannies that are off-limits, so V and I almost couldn't find our way out of the place. It was an enormous structure, and the rooms just went on and on, in a haphazard way. The only rooms we veered away from was the areas tourists had dedicated as outhouses.
Tomorrow we're heading back to Bombay (Mumai) so that V can continue her work. I'm considering taking a side trip to Goa with Rohit, as it's supposed to be a great place to go. I know I don't really want to spend more time in Mumbai - I don't like that city at all, especially after getting out into the countryside where it's less crowded.

Shop Till You Drop

V and I took a late train back to Delhi last night. We were sorry to go, as we both felt the stress and strain of travelling shed from our shoulders over the past two days and we wish we could make it last. However, we were scheduled to travel back to the city to hang out some more with Jitu and finish some of our site-seeing here. Our train ride was uneventful, we sat next to the door that was 'toilet side', meaning that the toilet for our car was on our end and let me tell you, every time someone walked through our car, or returned from the bathroom we got a breeze of STANK that caused involuntary dry heaving. It was the worst smelling thing since we were forced to sit above the sewer ditch during EUROKIDS day. I mean, come on people, we can't be the ONLY ones to notice the stench. What the fuck?! Anyway, we documented some of our journey (as we were mightily bored) Even V got in to it, though she normally refuses to be on camera.

This morning we went shopping around where our hotel is at some of the government state shops. These are shops owned by the different states of India and where they sell the products exclusive to their state. It's great to shop at these places because the wares they sell are all by artisan villagers (mostly poor women) who are practicing their traditional art and therefore sustaining their craft for future generations. Plus, all of the items are exclusive and individual, not mass produced, so it's really a great thing.

Anyway, without giving too much away, let me just say I dropped a lot of money today, mostly for gifts. The fabric alone is amazing, hand woven silks of every kind and color, art, jewelry, etc., really great stuff. I'm not going to say what I got specifically, because you're just going to have to wait till you see me to get yours.

Vidhu and I have decided that we're just too damn fat and if we continue to eat this much they're going to have to roll us onto the plane and probably they'll demand we purchase another ticket to fit our big fat asses. Therefore starting today Vidhu and I are limiting our India food to one meal a day and the other two we're eating only toast. It's a sad state of affairs, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Tomorrow we're going to go to a shop that makes perfume and make-up to your exact specifications. So it's one-of-a-kind make up, lotion, perfume, etc., and I'm sooo excited to go there! Also, we're going to try to do a little site-seeing too as we've heard there are one or two interesting old temples. Yeah, whatever. So they've got some buildings that are over a thousand years old. But do the temples sell perfume?!? No. I don't think so.

But actually it should be a lot of fun. Vidhu's folks are arriving in Delhi in two days, and when they do, we'll go traveling with them before heading back to Mumbai. We're also going to try to squeeze in an ayurvedic massage sometime which is based on India folk medicine. Maybe they can massage my fat down a little....hm.

Did I mention before that I got a massage the day I threw up? Well, it was actually part massage, part gynecological examination. Preeya called her massuese to come to the house and give me a massage there and she wanted me totally naked to do it. If I hadn't been feeling so ill I might of refused, but I was too sick to argue. It actually did feel pretty good though...

Himalayas

Today V and I ate a tasty American breakfast, drank coffee as we watched people cross a footbridge over the Ganga, and relaxed. Then we hiked 8 miles into the foothills of the Himalayas and visited an ashram called Phool Chatti Ashram. We sat in quiet solidude over the river and enjoyed the views the Ashram afforded us. We ran into Steven again, as this was where he was staying. He invited us to stay for lunch, and we got to eat with the swami, who, Vidhu observed, "looks like one of Santa's elves." Afterwards the three of us embarked on another hike into the forrest (Steven being the third, not the swami), and the day and hike were just beautiful. The sun was shining and we were all alone. I finally feel like I'm relaxing!!! Ahh.
Afterwards we trekked down to the Ganga and blessed ourselves by touching the holy water. Vidhu taught me a little prayer, which we sung as we annointed our foreheads. Then we giggled. It was a lot of fun, and I'm glad that I am here with Vidhu. We watched the sun set over the village as we ate fresh yogurt with fruit and afterwards we retired to our room to read. I would love to stay longer here, but we're taking a train back to Delhi tomorrow, so that we can go on to Ashra and visit the Taj Mahal. But besides the damn hippies, I liked Rishikesh a lot.

Train to Rishikesh and Spiritual Enlightenment A La Anne

So we got up at 5am this morning to get to the New Delhi train station to take a train to Rishikesh. Many people may remember that Rishikesh was the place the Beattles visited an ashram in the 60s known as the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's ashram. Rishikesh is a holy city for Hindus located in the foothills of the Himalayas in northern India. It's majestic and for the first time during our trip, V and I can breathe in clean mountain air. The town rests on the banks of the Ganga river (known in the west as the Ganges River), and is considered the holiest of rivers and also a Hindu diety. Everyone is here to gain enlightenment, whether they be devot Hindu pilgrims or Western-hippy-new-age-yoga tourists. I feel like I'm back in Venice beach. For folks who are familiar with Santa Cruz, this is where Santa Cruzites vacation. All the Americans have dreadlocks and wear blankets and I saw one pasty white guy walking around in a Gandi-esque wrap with no shoes and nodding rather silly at passerbys. Peace man.

So those of you who know me well, or even a little, are realizing the huge cosmic irony of me finding myself here. After having worked the last few months on a documentary about religion, I almost think perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something. If so, it should speak up, because right now all I feel is a mild case of amusement while people watching.

And I have to tell you about this American we sat next to on the train ride here. His name is Steven Shupe, and he's been living abroad for 17 years. In his former life he was a lawyer and a water management specialist. At 6'7'', he really stood out. We had a long discussion about his metaphysical perspective and I have to admit, I understood very little of what he said. I gather from what he was saying that my lack of understanding and "truth" had something to do with my having lived among other humans and 'not knowing myself'. In order to gain true enlightenment, one must shed all the outside layers of who we 'think we are'. But I like my layers. In the end, he turned out to be a really nice guy and helped us find a suitable hotel with river view (for 6 bucks a night, not to mention he recommended things for us to see/do while there.) So it was good that we met this particular crazy American even when he asked us if we had boyfriends and started to give off that desperate vibe men sometimes give off. Vidhu explained to me that he had been alone for so long that he was lonely....makes sense, I guess even the enlightened get horney.
It was afternoon when we arrived, so we checked in to our hotel, ate some lunch and did some shopping. After the sun set behind the mountains, we listened to spread out over the river. We found a coffee shop called the German Bakery (it was indeed German, the cinnamon rolls were as dry as croutons) and watched the monkeys jump from rooftops to the footbridge. We read books and bought more at a local bookstore. Then we ate dinner as we rested on colorful mats and drank ginger lemon honey tea. Today was a great day. Shopping is truely the way to inner peace. The picture below is of a cow that followed me around, trying to nuzzle up against my hand as I looked at Jewelry. I call him Bob. Or she. Those cows are so cute.

Delhi

Today was a really fun day. Delhi is less crowded, more green than Mumbai. The air is still as polluted and it's a big city, but it was comfortable in the 70s and we finally had a tour guide to show us around! Vidhu went to USC with a fellow Indian by the name of Jitu, who is now a professor at the University of Dehli.
She took us to visit the historic site Qutab Minar (pictured above) and after visiting this impressive site with stones from Hindu and Muslim temples, we travelled to a local market to go shopping. It was an arts and crafts market, full of great stuff and surprisingly expensive. However with the number of kitschy shops here where all the items are massed produced and completely purchasable in the USA, it was a welcome change. Since it was Christmas, we finished the day by buying a Plum Pudding, which V and I ate late at night with some Chai Tea. It was one of the first really wonderful days in India that I've experienced, and besides a little residual nausea, I finally begin to feel excited about what lays ahead on our trip. It takes so long to gain your momentum in a new country, and after a week in India, I'm just now getting to the point where I can start to enjoy all of new experiences that are bombarding my senses. I look forward to the next couple of days.

Christmas in India

Priya's mehndi applier came over and applied mehndi to V and my hands, also my feet and upper arm. The process took about 1 1/2 per person (45 minutes per hand) and after it dried, we applied a sticky mix of lemon juice and sugar to the mehndi to bring out the color. The mehndi smelled like the cloves that were added to the base, though after it dried, it left our hands smelling of something was rotting. In order to allow the color to develop as much as possibe, we were told to sleep with the crusty mehndi dried on our hands. It was difficult to do anything because it flaked off. We woke up with the bed covered in dirt. But the results were worth it all:

So after my day in bed, Lalit purchased Vidhu and I tickets to fly to Delhi. Being the host-with-the-most, he generously paid for them himself, much to our horror. The tickets were cheap by American standards (50 bucks one way for a three hour flight) yet nevertheless, extremely gracious. We flew with Kingfisher Airlines, one of the nicest airlines I've flown. They handed out Kingfisher Stewardess barbies to all the little girls on the plane (Christmas present since we flew on Christmas day) I was really jealous. One funny note, here, the passport has the same status as a driver's license does in the US. We have to show it to get SIM cards for our cell phone, we need our passports to check in to hotels. We need our passports to purchase train tickets. Yet we went through the entire airport experience without showing our passports ONCE. How funny is that?

Once in Delhi, we checked in to a guest house in the heart of New Delhi, which is owned by a distant relative of V. The hotel is located in New Delhi, in the heart of the shopping district. The first thing we noticed about Delhi is that it is less crowded and much older than Mumbai...also a lot colder, as it is located in the middle of the country, away from the coastline. We got a lot more attention in Delhi, and the train station there is chaotic and confusing.

This is a picture from the rooftop of the Preem Sagar Guesthouse where we stayed in Delhi.

Bollywood

Today V went to interview a Bollywood film Producer in Juhu. This very nice older gentleman talked to us about his films, how he got started and the hayday of Indian Cinema. He introduced us to the writer on his current film and invited us to visit his film shoot in NY in April. We had a good time chatting with him, and he told us about his next project, a Bollywood version of Romeo and Juliet. I asked him what made his version particularly Bollywoodish and he responded, "well, of course in my movie they won't die." I laughed my ass off.

Later that night, V and I ate some guava. V ate the skin. I asked her if it was okay to eat the skin, and she said, "I don't know, but I'm eating it." I thought, well if she can do it, so can I. And it tasted great. We had a big spicy dinner, and then later that night, the puking began. Oh, Vidhu didn't get sick. Vidhu never gets sick. She just eats what she wants while everyone comments on the weak consitution of the American stomach. She doesn't count of course, because she's an Indian at heart. Apparently she's an Indian at heart and in stomach.

One note on my illness: The family would check on my condition every hour of so...and when they did, the entire family entered my room, sat on the bed, felt my forehead. Preeya went so far as to administer 'touch therapy'. Actually quite nice. They insisted a Doctor be called to the house. The nice elderly gentleman that arrived was their family doctor, a man who had been administering medical help to the family for over 13 years. The only problem was that he's now in renal failure and was sicker than I was. I felt guilty that he made the trip out for me, but these people would stop at nothing to make sure I was taken care of.

While sick, I was forced to drink a variety of drinks/medicines that they themselves take when sick. For example: coffee, tea, fennel seeds. I, of course, threw everything up. I wanted water, which they didn't want me to drink much of (as they thought I would just throw it up) and sprite (which they thought was bad for my stomach as it is carbonated). Of course I became dehydrated, and so when the doctor asked if I had 'wet mushys" (which is Hindi for diarreha - I had fun trying to figure that one out.) or whether I was able to 'pass urine' I told them no. I heard much discussion that day about my inability to "pass urine" and everyone, including some strangers who happened to call the house that day learned of the inner workings of my urinary system. The doctor decided my lack of peeing was a serious problem, so they decided that I needed to go to the hospital, which I refused to do, and much arguing ensued. If not for the presence of Vidhu, I probably would have ended up there, but she came to my rescue, got me crackers to eat and sprite to drink and told them to let me just sleep it off. That lead of course to my recovery, though Lalit laughed for days that the threat of the hospital was enough to cause my immediate recovery.

The whole night and next day I spent in bed. So for tomorrow's blog forgetaboutit.

Eurokids

Today was EUROKIDS SPORTS DAY!!! Preeya, V's cousin, owns a preschool center called Eurokids. And today was their special Sports day to highlight how well the children were doing and how they incorporate sports into their learning. So we accompanied Lalit (her husband) and her 2 children Ananya and Anjolie and spent the day with around 200 adults (parents and grandparents) and 80 kids. It was a whirlwind of 4 year olds, dressed in red, parading around banners, running pseudo-races to 'win' hugs, and a tiny little old lady who would yell out in her high pitched Indian dialect "ready, set, 123GO!". The whole experience was surreal. Lalit watched over us all, making sure we had drinks, were comfortable and enjoying ourselves. Because V and I do so much sitting, I got up and walked around a bit, taking pictures, and generally trying to understand what was going on. There was also a cricket game taking place at the sportscenter, and that interested me too. But as soon as I got up, Lalit tried to get me to sit down again. After a while, he was very adament that V and I sit down. He wouldn't take no for an answer, so he lead us to a section of seats and told us, "sit, sit down, relax, relax!" Vidhu and I took a seat and instantly noticed that we seemed to have been seated in a big pile of shit. I asked V, "Dear God, what is that smell?" And V just shook her head, unable to speak over the fumes, which were choking her. We then realized that there was perfectly reasonable explaination for why no one else was seated in that area, and that, in fact, the chairs must be over a large septic tank, and really, who wants to smell like poo? Lalit looked over and smiled happy that we were finally content, when in fact, we were fighting to breath over the stench. When we could no longer stand the pain, we got up again, and hastily retreated. As soon as Lalit noticed this, he insisted that we sit down again, though this time to our relief, he pointed out a new spot. The new seats didn't smell like shit anymore, but the table in front of us was covered with baby barf, that was now fermenting in the sun. Oh well, it was better than the poo.

Priya's two daughters are Ananja and Anjolie - smart girls - just like their mom. It was interesting to hear them talk about how they hate traveling or leaving India - and watching them sing along to all their favorite Bollywood songs. Ananja wants to be a Bollywood star when she grows up, Anjolie talked about how impractical it is to study art - she thinks that only a technical degree like science or math makes any sense. Very different than American kids, though their patriotism was similar...it was interesting to compare them.

Bandara

Yesterday V and I went to Bandara to go shopping - we took a local train, 2nd class, from where we were staying with Swapan in Chandivali (a 4 stop - 20 minute trip). This was my first experience with beggars (they were frequently seen at all street corners, but besides begging at your window, sometimes knocking once or twice they left us alone). However the train station was a crowded place, and there were a lot of people asking for money. One boy in particular wouldn't leave me alone, I gave him a 2 rupee coin, but he wasn't satisfied, so he stood in front of me tapping me intermittently on the arm and then on the chest, specifically my boob. That got kind of tiring after twenty or thirty minutes, but since we were waiting in line to buy our tickets, there was nothing to be done. Anyway, we purchased 2 round trip tickets, and made our way to the segregated train. Women have three cars per train (the first, last and middle cars), while the men take up the rest. We weren't sure why such an old-fashioned custom persisted until we started to board the train. The rush of people pushing to get on and off swept us up in its path and we were packed like sardines into the car, elbows, purses and feet jabbing everywhere. We were thankful then for being surrounded merely by women and didn't have to worry about getting our asses pinched as well.
After taking the train, V and I were exhausted. But we managed to perk up when we came across an air-conditioned MALL. We each purchased a salwar kameez, which is the everyday wear of most Indian women. It consists of a long shirt (with or without sleeves) which is the salwar, and baggy pants (called kameez), they also include a scarf which is worn backwards with the ends hanging down the back. They have other types of pants called churida, which are tight at the ankles, and sometimes they wear their salwar with a western type pants.

On the way home, we accidently boarded a first class car of the train. The difference in price was only a couple of rupees, and we figured it was no big deal. However, the train was boarded by female ticket controllers who informed us that not only were we in first class, but our tickets were only one way - not round trip like we thought we had purchased - so we got charged 25 U.S. bucks for our mistake. No amount of reasoning mattered and the women acted like it was so obvious that we had purchased one-way tickets, when in fact, nothing could be further from the truth - the ticket was a jumble of hindi characters and a smatter of english letters typed in such a small font that only Spiderman with his spidey senses could make out what the damn thing said. Vidhu tried reasoning with the women but that only caused a scene. Anyway, we resolved never to ride in another local train. Luckily, we laughed it off and whatever - 25 bucks probably allows the train to run for another year, so I like to think we did something good for the city of Mumbai.
After shopping V decided to get in touch with her cousin Priya who lives in Mumbai and who she hasn't seen in 25 years.

The Gateway to India

So after spending a rough day of shopping inside an air-conditioned mall, we decided it was time to get our 'feet wet' in the 'real' Mumbai, so today we hired a rickshaw to take us across town to an area along the water known as Colaba. There we were hoping to find some interesting colonial architecture, the Gateway to India, and various other scenic photo-ops. We were clever, and had already discovered that the Rickshaws won't take you all the way into the city (they're not allowed as they are crazy and don't follow any street rules). So we hoped into a taxi around 9am and off we went!

Three hours of exhaust fumes from the cars of 1 billion commuters spewing into our shrivelling lungs landed us in Colaba. We were hot, tired, hungry and had no idea where to go. The upside was the air felt less polluted, there was a breeze blowing off the ocean, the architecture was lovely and after eating in an air-conditioned restaurant, we felt human enough to venture out on the streets again.

We went and looked at the Gateway to India, a gigant structure built in 1913. Vidhu and I got blessed by a holyman (who gave us orange bindis on our foreheads) and because I chose to wear the Salwar Kameez, some guy came up to me and asked if I would let his friend take a picture of us. I guess I made a bit of a spectical with my bindi, hindi garb and waspy white skin. Here's a picture of the building.

After our picture taking extraveganza, we crossed the street to the Taj Palace, a very
expensive hotel, and looked around at the shops inside, which included me drooling as I stood outside a Luis Vuitton store. Sigh.

The lovely doormen called us an air-conditioned taxi for our 3 hour ride home, and what we got what a very nice English-speaking gentleman who was 87 years old and drove like a bat out of hell. He said Mumbai had changed a lot since 1945, when he first moved here, with so many more people and overall the economy had improved.

That evening we went to visit Vidhu's cousin (of sorts) who she hadn't seen in 25 years. The Mittal family. When we arrived, it was like being back in the US - they are VERY well off. They own a three bedroom apartment in a ritzy part of town (not big but beautifully furnished), and because labor is so cheap here, they have a cook, 3 cars and 3 drivers, a domestic helper (that's the person who brings us tea and water throughout the evening and gets us stuff out of the fridge), a housekeeper, and various other people who come in and out of the house at all hours (a couple of teachers, a doctor, a masseuse, a mendehi applier, a personal trainer, a beautician...those where some of the people we got to know in our time there).

This family is funny, loving, generous and very outgoing. They insisted we get our luggage and stay with them as long as we like. Since we didn't want to put out our generous host Swapan (who we met through couchsurfing.com), we readily agreed. So back into a car we hopped and after 3 hours (2 hours there and 1 hour back) we settled in to a huge Indian meal and mapped out our plans for the next few days.