Mumbai, India (April 20-23)
We arrived in Mumbai in the morning and after a sad goodbye to Charlie, I took the train to the Salvation Army guesthouse and checked in. It was the most no-frills place I have stayed with no screens in the windows or even sheets, but it is definitely the cheapest place in Mumbai.
At the hostel, I met an Australian named David and then we met Ilsa at lunch and Victoria at dinner. Victoria was really into the Taj Palace hotel, which is this really fancy and famous hotel in Mumbai. I suggested that we go in for a drink and check it out. The prices would have been expensive in Toronto at almost $8 for a non-alcoholic drink, so I decided to spring for a fancy one rather than spend $6 on a soda. It was this strange milky drink with rosewater, rice, small tapioca beads, and something that looked and tasted a bit like grenadine. It was an interesting experience, but to be honest even if I could afford it, I would never want to stay there. I enjoy the adventure of staying in my seedy little holes in the wall and I would never give it up for a boring and isolated stay in that castle right in the centre of so much poverty.
I was talking to a girl in Varanasi about this Indian obsession with status and shows of wealth that seems to permeate the culture. I am not saying that the caste system and their beliefs have no effect on it, but I also think a lot of it is just them trying to stand out in this sea of people. With their arms full of bangles and jewel-encrusted saris, I think they are just trying to scream loud enough to be heard amoungst the blaring noise of India. Seeing it in such a different context makes the silliness of it so much more obvious. Watching them strutting around and glittering in jewels while the dalits grab at their feet for 10 rupees to eat. It is funny how being in a completely different culture can make you realize so many truths about your own. I guess we all just want to make a space for ourselves to be seen.
There was a strike at the market the next day so we didn't really get to shop, but we did get to see non-violent resistance in it's home in India. We decided to see a Bollywood movie since I had never seen one. It was called Commando and was entirely in Hindi, but the dialogue was quite irrelevant anyways since you could get the basic story quite easily: Evil man wants to marry pretty girl, pretty girl runs away to get out of marrying evil man, pretty girl is saved by mysterious and strong army man, pretty girl falls in love with army man, pretty girl continues creating obstacles like screaming at a snake when they are hiding right next to the group of evil goons (really is a snake scarier than 10 machine guns?), strong army man single-handedly destroys all evil men, and they live happily-ever-after. It was a sort of Indian Jackie Chan movie with a corny soap-opera-esque love story and a few Bollywood dance scenes tossed in. My favourite scene was when they realized they were in love and there was this five minute sequence of them dressed in fancy clothes circling eachother in the desert and rolling along the beach, which all ended in a climactic hug.
After the movie, Victoria and I decided to check out the fashion market. Three weeks of sleep deprivation combined with the insane heat was not a good combination with the aggressive sales tactics of the fashion market workers. Each shop we passed contributed to the chorus in a sort of twisted round of "Hello, miss, madam, hello, come in, yes, welcome...". After about the 20th shop, I had had enough. "SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR...SEE HOW FUCKING ANNOYING THAT IS." He cowered back into his shop and I decided it was not a good time for me to be in the market. I went back to the hostel to relax and went out to get dinner.
At dinner, a guy asked me if I wanted to be an extra in an Indian commercial. I had really wanted to be in a Bollywood movie so I told him that I would do the commercial if he would get me onto a Bollywood set. He said he would do his best.
The next day, they drove us about an hour and a half from Salvation Army to get to the set, where we waited around for a few hours. Finally, they came in with costumes and dressed the guys up in suits and me up in some whory shoes, a short dress and pink makeup and they straightened my hair. It was the first time I have worn makeup other than mascara and straightened my hair in the previous six months. Then they put a big blue plastic snakeskin purse on my arm. I looked like Barbie. Our scene was basically just us walking hurriedly in front of a green screen. We walked back and forth for about 45 minutes, then were hurried to the dressing room, changed, and rushed out to the car to head back. The commercial was for either zoom or xoom (we don't know), and we don't really know what it was about, but we were told that it would air in the states.
The next morning, we went to Elephant Island to see the caves. They are elaborate caves and Hindu god statues carved into the side of the rock. I can't even imagine how one would go about making such a thing. Some of them were huge!
There were plenty of Indian tourists there as well. We were taking pictures of the caves while they took pictures of us. I still don't entirely understand that. They must be going through their pictures saying: "here is a lion, here are the elephant island caves, here is a white person..." I just started making ugly faces. If you are going to sneak a picture of me without asking, you are not going to get a pretty one.
We rounded one corner and a mother had laid out a piece of newspaper on a bench, where her child was taking a crap like a dog. These are seriously the moments I live for in India. This is happening.
At the hostel, I met an Australian named David and then we met Ilsa at lunch and Victoria at dinner. Victoria was really into the Taj Palace hotel, which is this really fancy and famous hotel in Mumbai. I suggested that we go in for a drink and check it out. The prices would have been expensive in Toronto at almost $8 for a non-alcoholic drink, so I decided to spring for a fancy one rather than spend $6 on a soda. It was this strange milky drink with rosewater, rice, small tapioca beads, and something that looked and tasted a bit like grenadine. It was an interesting experience, but to be honest even if I could afford it, I would never want to stay there. I enjoy the adventure of staying in my seedy little holes in the wall and I would never give it up for a boring and isolated stay in that castle right in the centre of so much poverty.
I was talking to a girl in Varanasi about this Indian obsession with status and shows of wealth that seems to permeate the culture. I am not saying that the caste system and their beliefs have no effect on it, but I also think a lot of it is just them trying to stand out in this sea of people. With their arms full of bangles and jewel-encrusted saris, I think they are just trying to scream loud enough to be heard amoungst the blaring noise of India. Seeing it in such a different context makes the silliness of it so much more obvious. Watching them strutting around and glittering in jewels while the dalits grab at their feet for 10 rupees to eat. It is funny how being in a completely different culture can make you realize so many truths about your own. I guess we all just want to make a space for ourselves to be seen.
There was a strike at the market the next day so we didn't really get to shop, but we did get to see non-violent resistance in it's home in India. We decided to see a Bollywood movie since I had never seen one. It was called Commando and was entirely in Hindi, but the dialogue was quite irrelevant anyways since you could get the basic story quite easily: Evil man wants to marry pretty girl, pretty girl runs away to get out of marrying evil man, pretty girl is saved by mysterious and strong army man, pretty girl falls in love with army man, pretty girl continues creating obstacles like screaming at a snake when they are hiding right next to the group of evil goons (really is a snake scarier than 10 machine guns?), strong army man single-handedly destroys all evil men, and they live happily-ever-after. It was a sort of Indian Jackie Chan movie with a corny soap-opera-esque love story and a few Bollywood dance scenes tossed in. My favourite scene was when they realized they were in love and there was this five minute sequence of them dressed in fancy clothes circling eachother in the desert and rolling along the beach, which all ended in a climactic hug.
After the movie, Victoria and I decided to check out the fashion market. Three weeks of sleep deprivation combined with the insane heat was not a good combination with the aggressive sales tactics of the fashion market workers. Each shop we passed contributed to the chorus in a sort of twisted round of "Hello, miss, madam, hello, come in, yes, welcome...". After about the 20th shop, I had had enough. "SIR SIR SIR SIR SIR...SEE HOW FUCKING ANNOYING THAT IS." He cowered back into his shop and I decided it was not a good time for me to be in the market. I went back to the hostel to relax and went out to get dinner.
At dinner, a guy asked me if I wanted to be an extra in an Indian commercial. I had really wanted to be in a Bollywood movie so I told him that I would do the commercial if he would get me onto a Bollywood set. He said he would do his best.
The next day, they drove us about an hour and a half from Salvation Army to get to the set, where we waited around for a few hours. Finally, they came in with costumes and dressed the guys up in suits and me up in some whory shoes, a short dress and pink makeup and they straightened my hair. It was the first time I have worn makeup other than mascara and straightened my hair in the previous six months. Then they put a big blue plastic snakeskin purse on my arm. I looked like Barbie. Our scene was basically just us walking hurriedly in front of a green screen. We walked back and forth for about 45 minutes, then were hurried to the dressing room, changed, and rushed out to the car to head back. The commercial was for either zoom or xoom (we don't know), and we don't really know what it was about, but we were told that it would air in the states.
We rounded one corner and a mother had laid out a piece of newspaper on a bench, where her child was taking a crap like a dog. These are seriously the moments I live for in India. This is happening.
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