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.