Avatar and the beach

I finally saw Avatar in 3d. The movie itself was visually stunning, the general storyline is pretty timeless (Tristan and Iseult, to some extent Romeo & Juliet, Disney's Pocahontas, etc.), the dialogue was pretty lame in parts, but overall it was a very enjoyable experience. I rode a train down to Lower Parel, the took a cab to Phoenix Mills PVR. The movie theater is located in a big, very westernized, mall. In India, after the 11/26/08 attacks, any place that has a lot of people and has anything worth bombing inside has security guards swarming the place as well as metal detectors to get in. After passing through the metal detectors, I walked around the mall a little bit. It was very similar in feel to Watertower in that it was all indoors, the shops were very nice, and it was very clean. I realized the show was about to start so I booked it past a T.G.I. Fridays (yes, complete with lame vests and kitschy memorabilia). I haven't seen a Chili's so that T.G.I. Fridays is the new golf course as per Michael Scott's advice, because the only people in there were businessmen.

I walked into the theater and once again had to pass through a metal detector (bootlegging is a big problem in India, as one can imagine). I was patted down and my matches we taken away (I didn't ask why). The inside of this theater is nicer than most American ones I have visited. It was a veritable temple to movies. It was spectacularly clean, the choices of snacks ranged from popcorn to thai dumplings, the bathrooms were immaculate, the seats were plush and reclined, I never want to see a movie anywhere else again. The only thing that I disliked (but at the same time liked-- much like the rest of India) was that in the middle of the movie it just stopped for an intermission. It was mid sentence, the movie just stopped, up popped a note saying intermission, everyone filed out, filed back in, and it started up again after 10 minutes. I understand the need for intermissions because Bollywood films are usually upwards of 3 hours long, but it also took me out of the movie and it took me a little while to get back to Pandora.

Following the movie I met Liz and her boyfriend at a beach side hotel restaurant. It is so tempting to go walk along the water, but I am constantly reminded by her boyfriend and other Indians that the water is filthy and I will most likely immediately get a rash, so I was content just to look from afar. They had good cheap Indian bar food so we stayed for a couple hours then headed out.

On another note: it is the middle of winter here in Bombay. The weather is 80 degrees every. day. I point this out, not to laugh at those of you stuck in cold weather, but to point two things out:
1. This is the COLDEST it gets in the city. From here on out it will keep getting hotter.
2. Indian's find this to be relatively very cold, so it is not uncommon to see people huddled around a fire in the evening warming themselves. I met one of Liz's boyfriend's friends last night and he was huddled in a blanket and scarf when we showed up. He said that it was much too cold outside.

I also find it sad that the creators of Kristina's and my favorite foods both died in the past week: spaghettios and Taco Bell, respectively.

Death is ever present

I apologize for the delay in posts. I have been keeping busy. Additionally, I am starting to become less and less surprised by what I see and more used to my surroundings.

That being said, some interesting things have happened:

Walking up the five flights of stairs to Liz's apartment, we passed by one of her neighbors with a recently shaved head. Liz complimented him on his haircut, but he just looked to the ground sadly and informed her that he did it because his brother had just died. (shaving one's head is a Hindi tradition when a close member of one's family dies.)

I finally rode the train. This was quite an interesting experience. The train is divided into 1st class and 2nd class men's and 1st and 2nd class women's. The women have their own cars because groping and rapes have been problems on trains, so this is a way to mitigate those occurrences, though they still happen.

I, for obvious reasons, was unable to ride on the women's cars (nor did I want to). Every girl I have spoken to about their experiences in the women's cars was a tale of scratching, biting, yelling at other women for alleged seat stealing, and general cattiness, so even most women prefer to ride in the men's cars. The second class men's cars have older seats and are predominantly standing room only. One can immediately recognize the second class cars because they constantly have 10-20 men hanging out the doorways (there are no doors on the trains); men often also ride on the tops of trains for the thrill of it. Men still hang out of the doors on the first class cars occasionally, but the cars are generally filled with businessmen winding down (or starting) their day. They take cat naps, relax, read the paper, etc. -- normal train stuff. All cars, however, regardless of class, male or female, jump off the train the second it starts pulling into the station. The same happens when trains arrive. People skip across train tracks, hop on already moving trains, etc. just to catch that train.

The reason I am describing the boarding and getting off practices of the trains is that 5-6 thousand people a year die because of the trains. People fall off the top, fall out the doors, get hit while running across the tracks, etc. It is very sad but a little ridiculous, considering that during rush hour trains come every 3 minutes, so there really is no need for the rush. Additionally, once they're off the train people walk at a leisurely pace.

Bootlegs and Cats

Liz has a story coming up for where she will be interviewing one of the biggest stars in Bollywood, so we needed to get a copy of his most recent movie so she could watch it. We took a cab to a bootleg movie place that Liz knew of. No one on the block knew where it was (nudge nudge wink wink), but finally a young man admitted to knowing where it was and pointed us inside a building. We passed through the building, an alley or two, through the hallway of another building, through an office, and then we finally reached the dvd store. Inside they had a selection the rivals best buy. Almost every dvd I could think of they had, and every one was 3 dollars. We were pressed for time because Liz had to go to work so I wasn't able to fully peruse and take advantage, but I have a feeling I'll be back. 

I've pretty much exhausted everything touristy there is to do in Bombay. It's not really a city to tour very long, so pretty much everything from here on in will be more about experiences rather than interesting landmarks I saw. 

The French embassy (unlike our lazy embassy) has set a month of French themes events, so Liz and I attended a concert at a Jazz bar called the Blue Frog. It was probably the nicest bar I've ever been in, though the owners have a special place in hell for the prices they charged for drinks. They were more expensive than any bar I've even been to in Chicago. The quartet was good and the place had a very good atmosphere, but after the concert it was much too pricey to stick around.  We took a cab back to Liz's apartment in order to watch the movie she had to see. 

When we got out of the cab, we passed a group of men carrying burlap sacks. I thought nothing of it until Liz started freaking out. I looked around because I heard cats meowing, but I just thought maybe there was a litter of kittens huddled in some drain meowing out of hunger. The bags were stuffed to the brim with cats. I am not a cat lover, so I didn't think twice. Liz, being the animal lover that she is, made her boyfriend talk the men out of going to drown the cats. Her boyfriend, Liz, myself, and her friend all followed these men for 3 or 4 blocks while Liz pleaded for the release of the animals. The men finally relented and just released the cats by a fish market. The crisis was averted (though I personally was cheering for the men). 

The movie we watched, 3 Idiots, was quite good For those of you who like movies, this may be the Slumdog Millionaire of the year. I know it's showing in a limited release at home, so check it out if you have time. 

Exploring on my own

Day 4 I did absolutely nothing of interest to anyone, including myself, so for those of you keeping track of my travels chronologically that is the explanation. 

Day 5, however, was a much more interesting day. (Once again I apologize for the lack of pictures, I'm having a little technological troubles.) The beginning part of the day was spent at the Bombay Museum.  Once again I was dropped off blocks from the actual museum and spent the next 20 minutes actually finding it. 

The museum housed a pretty impressive collection of Indian, Tibetan, and South East Asian antiquities. Almost everything in the museum came from the private collections of two of the prominent members of the Tata family (not surprising, but still interesting to see the scope of their wealth.) 

From the museum I took a cab a region of the city called Colaba. It's known for it's market and restaurants. I toured the market where one can buy anything from cheap Indian baubles to knock off Ed Hardy t-shirts. I've lost probably ten pounds here so I bought a leather belt for 1$ (so far it hasn't dyed my jeans any odd colors.)

I then visited the famous Taj Mahal Hotel; one of the sites of the 2008 terrorist attacks. Even a year later, I had to go through a metal detector just to walk around the lobby of this very impressive 5 star hotel. The restaurant wasn't open until dinner time so I decided to visit the site where the initial attacks happened; Leopold Cafe. 

The Leopold Cafe is a pretty unassuming building. If I didn't know the history that took place inside, I wouldn't have thought twice. The place was packed. I got the last table so I sat down to have a drink and some lunch. Upon a little closer inspection, I noticed that they had kept the bullet holes scattered all throughout the restaurant as a constant reminder. For those who don't know, the attacks of 11/26/08 started at the Leopold Cafe started when Pakistani terrorists opened fire at the cafe. They killed at least 10 people in the cafe and continued shooting at the fleeing customers. It was a very interesting mix of violent history with a laid back attitude. 

I walked around more in the market and went home for a nap. 

Following the nap, Liz and I went to a bar called Not Just Jazz to see a live band cover classic rock songs. The lead singer was decked out in a tiger print shirt, the pianist had a Jheri Curl, and the guitarist had the requisite eighties hair and clothes. It was very enjoyable and although they looked kitschy they were actually a good band.

The night ended at her friend's apartment. His apartment is very westernized and very nice. The most interesting part about it, however, was the location. It was located in the middle of a very bad slum, but here in this gated off little section was this very nice apartment building. I'm beginning to learn that something like that is very representative in Bombay. The divide between rich and poor is vast, but yet they coexist in such close quarters. 

There's more beef here than I thought

Day 2 was very uneventful. The only thing I learned on day 2 was that I am probably cursed and should never drink Kingfisher beer. My first task assigned to me by Liz was to go replenish the rum I had drank to calm my nerves from the first night. I ventured out into the wilderness in search of rum. I found a small liquor kiosk so I purchased the rum to replenish Liz's "bar" and I decided to try India's most popular beer: Kingfisher. 

I came back to her apartment with the rum and beer. I put the rum away, put the bottle of Kingfisher between my legs and readied myself to open it. The bottle slipped right through my legs and exploded on Liz's floor. After ten or so minutes of clean up I called it a night and went to sleep. When I woke up a few hours later, I decided to try tasting their beer again. I went to the same story, bought the same bottle, and came back. I opened it carefully on the ground, was ready to drink it, when I heard a weird noise outside Liz's door. In getting up I kicked over the bottle; once again denying myself a taste of their beer. 

Today was day 3. Liz slept til about noon because she interviewed the CEO of Whole Foods at 1AM til about 2:30AM, so once she woke up she led me to the beach. We ducked and wove through cabs, people, bridges, etc. until we reached the beach. The view from that point was incredible. All I wanted to do was wade in the water and walk along the beach. This is where one of Liz's (now) famously late warnings was given. "Don't go in the ocean. That is where many people poop in the morning, and if you were to enter it would be almost instant disease."

Needless to say I stayed out of the water. 

I came home from the beach a short while later and napped (I'm still very jet-lagged). Upon waking up, Liz emailed me and told me that we were going out for steaks. This made me very happy. I wrote down the address of the steak place and proceeded to catch a cab to meet her. 

--Here comes a disclosure about Indian addresses. . . they don't exist. In order to reach a place you tell the cab driver to take you to a certain area, followed by a land mark. It would be like telling a cab driver to drive you to "Wrigleyville, Wrigley Field." You get dropped off and then you have to walk to find your way to the exact address. 

The first cab driver I hailed took me about half the way to the steak house, decided he could not continue, so asked me to go the rest of the way in another cab. I paid him the fare (which he didn't rip me off on) and walked the street to catch another cab. 

The second driver I caught was not as good. Halfway through our ride, he pulled over, stopped, jumped out of the cab, bought himself a cigarette (you can buy one at a time) and then continues to drive me the rest of the way to the steak house. He charged me triple what the initial driver did and it was about the same distance. After realizing I had been fleeced, I walked into the steak joint and had a steak. It was pretty tasty, but still served in a very Indian way; with an egg on top of the steak, the side besides the mashed potatoes was a little (fitting 4 or 5) bowl of chips, a chopped tomato, and some garlic bread. 

At the end of the day it was overall en enjoyable day. I'm warming up to the city, so I may be in it for a long-haul.  

First Impressions

After a 3 hour layover in Chicago due to "frozen parts," the plane finally left Chicago. It was a fairly pleasant 13 hour flight. The crew were very nice, we were tended to very dutifully, the only problems were the newlyweds in front of my who reclined their seats the entire time and the 8 or so crying babies on the plane. 

Abu Dhabi's airport is spectacular. I knew that when we landed we had already missed the flight to Bombay and I was hoping that I might get a chance to spend the night in the city just to see it a little. Etihad airlines took care of everything though, and I was on another carrier bound for Bombay within the hour. 

Even at 5AM the Bombay airport was bustling with people. After standing in line for about a half hour, I finally got up to the front of the line. . . I was about to get a lesson in Indian bureaucracy. The couple in front of me gave the man their passports, but he grilled them for about 10 minutes as to why they no longer had their boarding passes before finally letting them through. I got up to his window (thinking I was prepared to walk through breezily) and handed him my passport AND boarding pass. He did not let me through. He took issue with the fact the I had neglected to include the word "India" in filling out the address where I would be staying.  He let me through, I got my bag, went through customs, then left the airport. 

After exchanging some money, I walked out of the airport. I was really hoping (but not really expecting) that Liz would be waiting for me even after the 3 hour flight delay. She was not. I searched for her for about forty minutes, ultimately asking a man at an iced tea kiosk to use his cell to call her. She instructed me on where to get a cab so I don't get ripped off and I was on my way. 

Five minutes after entering the cab, the driver pulled over next to a building (lit only by the light of a trash can fire) and got out. Aside from the small trash can fire, it was pitch black outside. I deduced that the building was some sort of central base where he put in where he was taking me. Mere moments after the driver, I was staring in awe at the change in scenery when a black shrouded head popped in the cab begging for money. I got her to leave my alone, but with her head exiting another lady took that as an opportunity, so I got her away as well. 

The cab ride to Liz's was terrifying and exhilarating. We all think that Chicago cabs are bad. . . this driver wove in and out of traffic, was laying on his horn most of the time, narrowly missed hitting a few busses, but finally we made it to where Liz told me to go. I called her once again on the cab driver's cell phone, and five minutes later she came and got me. 

I got out of the cab and we started walking to her place. On the walk there I'm sure my suitcase was dragged through more than one kind of excrement, and proceeded to walk to the entrance to Liz's building. To say she lives in the slums is an understatement. This is where my anxiety kicked in and I knew this wasn't going to be as easy as previously expected. 

Her apartment is fairly nice on the inside. The beds are just mattresses on the floor (which I had no problem with until I realized I was probably going to be in the way of the paths of many bugs over the course of the night). 

The glaring problem in her apartment is her "Indian toilet." It is a squat toilet. Aside from the toilet, her shower is a bucket, nozzle, and hole in the ground. 

This will be quite an experience.