I've Got You, Under My Skin

My arrival back to Bombay this year is really no different than the other three but it feels different. After spending just over 24 hours back at my home away from home (Mumbai), the small stuff remains small.

My cell phone was shut off due to non-payment for the months of June and July. No shocker there. I visited Vodaphone this morning at 10:30 to pay my bills. After making my payment, I asked if there was any other step I needed to take to have service again. The smiley representatives replied, "No," and let me know I'd have service again in between 30 minutes to 2 hours.

5 hours later, still…

This afternoon I didn't mind returning to Vodaphone. I went out in the monsoon rain, caught another rick and went to the store. This time, after some help from one of the friendly Vodaphone assistant managers, we were able to work out my account's status and why service had yet to be returned. And, with fingers crossed, they were able to return service (or so I hope as I'm still in my 2 hour window of service being returned) the same day.



I'm fortunate today because at 10:30 this morning, the inside of my car looked like this…

and now it looks like this.

With a month or so of monsoon rains (Espy told me they didn't start this till late June) my shuttered car became an enormous petri dish. Mumbaikers are used to it.  My car is my first summer mold casualty but as you can see, it's not any longer. Well, it's still smelly but at least mold removal phase one is complete. I've got loads of appreciation for my building car washer who advised me to "give oxygen to the car tomorrow" which translates to leave the windows down in the parking garage at school.

In years past (and I even think in June of last year), these events would have got under my skin and felt like an itchy, allergic rash that just pestered me.

Today however, I don't need an anti-itch cream. So I'm a little unsure whether Mumbai's under my skin in the Frank Sinatra way after living here for 3 years or if my long summer holiday is letting the small stuff roll like water off a duck's back or some other wordy analogy. Whatever the reason, it's good and if you're wondering, by the time I finished my post, I officially had service again.

Flower Power

On Sunday morning, Mike and Barbara invited Deb and I to join them for a trip to the Dadar flower market.  I'd seen photos on Facebook from colleagues who'd visited before our holiday break and knew it would be a great place to explore, take a few photos and perhaps make a purchase.

We arrived to the market around 10 a.m.  The flower market, which immediately at the bottom of Dadar  Station steps, opens at 4 a.m.  I wondered what we'd be able to see going later in the morning.  Would there still be flowers and sellers?  Would we be greeted by brooms instead?  We definitely were not disappointed.

The market is a small area in and around the train station. Much of it is a narrow lane that crosses under the road overpasses and into the street on the other side.

Flowers are used in so many celebrations in India and this market is one that merchants and shoppers from across the city come to buy flowers as gifts, garlands for religious celebrations and we even saw a car draped in flowers for a wedding.  I'm sure during festivals, such as Ganpati or Diwali that the market is ten times as busy.

Baskets of marigolds, rose petals and jasmine greeted us.  We tried to keep out of the way while men carried large bags on the tops of their heads through the narrow lane.  It was hard to stay out of the way while admiring the brilliant colors along with flower vendors holding up bunches of roses and pointing out the garlands we should buy.

When it's time for new flowers, I'll definitely visit again and enjoy a train ride while it's still nice and cool in the city.

It's Not Just Coffee, It's...

Starbucks!

The news is out in India and apparently in Illinois (according to my mom) that Starbucks is coming to India.

The Seattle Times says that between September - December of 2012 (only a mere 50 stores) with them opening in Mumbai (yes!) and Delhi.

For me, it's a little slice of home in a cup.  For India, however, it's a mix of emotions.  I read about the news last evening in a Times for India article.  People are weighing in on Starbucks' arrival.  They note the cost of a cup versus the poverty here, the globalization of brands like Starbucks, taking away business from Indian coffee chains, the weather (according to one person it's too hot in India for a large cup of coffee) and the youth using it as a status symbol.

Can't argue with some of the complaints and when I think about the U.S., we have some of the same issues but just not at nearly the extreme level as in India.

For me, I like Starbucks.  I've tried others here and just haven't been as happy here.  When I get a coffee, latte or cappuccino when I'm out, it's not that it's about Starbucks, it's just no place has delivered what I wanted.  Some of it is that I'm in a tea drinking nation so rather than complain, I sip my coffee with extra sugar, order some yummy masala chai (tea) or just make my coffee at home.

I'm looking forward to my first Starbucks in India and also for my next Starbucks shot as well.  Oh and as a friend said on Facebook, a new mug too.

Seattle Starbucks, the original outside Pike's Place Market

Oh the weather outside is...

Perfect!
Lovin' this Mumbai weather.  Sunsets on rooftops with friends.  Beautiful places with lovely people and a few drinks too.

Dome @ the Intercontinental

Lately the temps have been in the 80s during the days with wonderful breezes.  No humidity.  Then at night the temps drop into the 60s and 70s.  My kinda weather.  Trying to make sure I get out and enjoy it as much as possible.  

Definitely did last night.  

Choose Your Own Adventure: Rickshaw Gods

Being new to Bandra and physically limited due to my silly ankle, I'm learning the area alongside the rickshaw drivers.  I rely on them. Each time I go out, it's like a Choose Your Adventure story.

 Here's your own Choose Your Adventure story.  I'm tossing you right into Bandra West.

You check the restaurant location one final time on the map.  You're heading to the Saltwater Cafe to meet your friends for a birthday dinner.  You put the map into your purse and leave the apartment building.  You hobble down the street to a location where you've seen many rickshaws.


One rickshaw stops as you wave but the driver doesn't recognize the street or hospital name (your landmark).  Two more ricks stop and the same response.   Eventually, a fourth rick pulls up.


The passenger exits.  He speaks English.  You tell him the address.  87 Chapel Road.  It's near Lalavati Hospital.  He speaks to the driver and tells him your destination.  The driver seems to understand.  He smiles at you.

1.  You choose to go with the driver, assuming he knows where Chapel Road is.
2.  You do not get into the rick and wait for another one who does know Chapel Road.


If you chose 1...
The driver thinks they know where they're going.  He pulls away but turns in the wrong direction.  He zooms through the market near your apartment. You tap him on the shoulder saying no.  Chapel Road.  


He pulls the rickshaw to a stop alongside a shop.  Both you and your driver both lean out of the rick asking people if they know a location in multiple languages.  You're reminded of the t.v. show Cash Cab.  Only your prize is your destination and there aren't any cool disco lights anywhere.  A gentleman stops.  He gives your driver  new directions and you pull away hopeful that you're on track now.


Twenty minutes later, you're still driving around.  The driver is lost again.  He stops and you both lean out a second time asking in each of your native languages for help.  A woman walks over and knows the restaurant.  She instructs the driver where to go. You drive away feeling confident, for now.


The driver starts to slow down.  You think this must be the stop.  He again leans about the window.  A gentleman walks up to the rick.  He speaks English and is carrying a Bible.  He tells you he'll take you to your destination.  Since you don't have change, he actually pays for your rick ride and starts to walk quickly with you down the uneven, wet sidewalk.  It's humid and you're sweating.  The time you spent on your hair and make-up have been lost as you're wet with sweat.  He turns into a pharmacy and asks for directions.  You wipe the sweat away and wonder if you'll ever make it to the birthday dinner.


The rickshaw gods have punished you.


If you chose 2.


 The first rick pulls over.  You say the hospital name.  Lalavati.  He looks at you.  You repeat it, trying to stretch out the word.  Still no recognition.  You say it a third time thinking of what sounds may be emphasized by others.  He knows your destination.  You step into the rick and sit back.  You lean down to catch glimpses out the sides of the rickshaw.  You're on your way to dinner and your friends and a well-deserved drink.


Here's what I've learned.  Perhaps next time you'll try one of these.
1.  You need to know the street to where you're headed.
2.  You need multiple landmarks, if possible, that the driver may be able to identify.
3.  Most likely you will need to repeat the street and or landmark a minimum of three times before the driver knows where they're headed or if they don't know where they're going.
4.  Be ready to say one street name first, such as Turner Road, followed by the intersecting road like Pali.
5.  Be prepared to hop out, pay the rick driver and try a new one.  The next driver may be a better one.

This really did happen to me on Friday night.  The gentleman who I met, invited me to his church, stopped at several other locations and eventually we walked right back to where we started.  The restaurant had been across the street from where he met me.  Seriously?

Here's to hoping the gods are with me for my next trip.

Mumbai's Symphony

At 5:00 a.m., the first movement of the Mumbai Sound Symphony begins.

A crow caws.

A car honks.

Some church bells ring just after 6:00.

People are rousing and so are the sounds.

A rickshaw horn,

An airhorn,

Suddenly a swelling of horns.

Everyone in a hurry.

An apartment door shuts,

The elevator door closes.

A small bird sings.

Small sounds in the city.

Cars gaining acceleration,

A new bird calls back.

A flip flop on the stair.

A hammer pounding somewhere.

                            After work, the  second movement.  The sounds build.  Louder and louder. 

 A crescendo.

More crows.  More horns.  More jackhammers.  It almost seems it will last all night.

Suddenly, at 7:00 p.m., some sounds begin to fade.

The construction site sounds from the new apartment buildings behind mine..jackhammers, air, metal slamming, hammering slow.

The crow outside my window caws one final time and flys away.

A singing voice.  A faint call for prayer.

Only the horns are left.

No dramatic coda here.

The Sound Symphony ends for today.  

The same symphony will begin tomorrow.  

Wonder if I'll hear it's beauty then?