Stuck in Airport Hell

I'd just like to take this opportunity to say YAY for the Proactive vending machine in JFK. After a 16 and 1/2 hour flight, my face was in desperate need of a good scrub this fine morning, and alas, I had no soap. So thank you, kind vending gods.

I was also surprised to find that I had acquired THE SWEETEST hairdo of my life after the longest flight of death EVER. Although the plane we were on was possibly the coolest thing ever imagined (dude! beds that lay totally flat within their own little private cubicles), sleeping like a rock for 9 hours straight did nothing for me. So here's another shout out to the man who invented the idea of the tourist shop in the airport...and also to the creator of the classic NY Yankees ball cap. Without your help, I would be wandering these halls looking like a female sasquatch.

Ahh...vanity. Or whatever.

But ov coooourse...I digress. The real reason for my post today was to allow me to present 3 MORE THINGS ABOUT INDIA for your reading pleasure. Actually, let's be honest: this is more for my writing pleasure. And a way to pass the next 5 hours of ungodly layover time I am staring in the face. *la la la*

Thing #1: Aren't these little ladies the sweetest angels you've ever seen? As we were walking out of the Jain temple, the tour guide started telling us about these good luck "charm" things laying on the board* at their feet. My original intention was to take a picture of those, but then I was bewitched by those big eyes. The "charm" things though - this is a huge thing over there. It starts with that...mmm...little green round vegetable thing, a carrot, and 7 green beans...then ends with a piece of chocolate (please note my exquisite short term memory skills here - I can't know what the hell kind of veggies they are, but whatever. Work with me, people.); the gist is that you hang this at your place of business to ward off bad luck for the next 7 days. So you see these EVERYWHERE - hanging off of taxi bumpers and rickshaw meters. I personally don't go in for such superstitions myself, but I thought it was intriguing that such a large population there does. Please note the cash in that lady's hand - you have to pay people to take their picture there. Best 10 rupees I ever spent.





Thing 2: So then we headed to a park called the Hanging Gardens...where I found this lovely "hind-english" sign, which cracked me up:


...and also some lovely "Edward Scissorhands" type creations:

This park is right next to the Parsi burial ground (actually, burial towersthat you can't see). How's this for fascinating - when a Parsi dies, he is taken to these towers, and after being wrapped in white and prayed over, he is marched to the top of the tower, laid on an iron grate, and left for the vultures. As they consume the body, the bones fall through the iron grate and are later burned. So everything is returned to the earth without actually returning it to the earth - as we do western style. I am not kidding when I tell you that there were vultures circling just over the hill from where we stood.

I have mixed feelings about that. While I respect it, it's not the way I want to go. AT ALL.

Thing 3: And then - my FAVORITE! A real, local market. This is the kind of place that tourists NEVER go to:

Honestly? I think our guide just wanted to buy some broccoli and some strawberry tea**, but truthfully? I loved seeing this. It feels more real than the ritzy tourist traps...more "true to life" for the typical Mumbai-an. Mumbai-ist? Mumbai-ite? For instance - the guy in the shot below. This shop is his livelihood - his life, actually. Notice the hatch in the roof above his head? That's how he gets TO HIS BED, because not only does he work here, but he lives here too. On top of his store. It's like living on the top shelf of a warehouse, and the amount of living space you are allocated is like 5 feet by maybe 7 feet.

I hope he becomes a millionaire someday.

So hmm. Only another 4 and 1/2 hours to go until my flight home. And then? Then I plan to DEVOUR A WHOLE COW. The Indian diet is so high in carbs!

Here's a freebie, since I have time to waste - the Arabian Sea:

* Please forgive...but I cannot remember the name of anything Indian. They speak so fast that I hardly have my head wrapped around the first vowel before they are talking about the next subject.
** And oh! It's the only place I ever saw a Mt. Dew the whole time I was there. I didn't dare to drink it though.

An Outsider's Perspective

The company I am visiting here arranged a tour of Mumbai for us on Saturday - so we saw just about everything you can see. Slums, homelessness, pollution...but also some brilliant architecture, industrial genious, and the Arabian Sea. This place is a sociologist's dream - the "have's" and the "have not's", money and poverty everywhere - a culture that contains anything you can imagine. Here are two of them - pretend you are in your 7th grade Geography class, and allow me to share what I learned with you:

This? This is the outdoor laundry. There are several around the city...and each launderer is self employed and has his own clientele. He shows up at your door, picks up your things, marks them with chalk, and gives you a claim check listing everything you gave him. He does this for all of your neighbors, and then heads to the laundry...where he makes his own soap, pays for his booth rent, and proceeds to beat the hell out of each item until it is the crispest white you have ever seen. Here's the amazing thing about this operation - THEY HAVE A SIX SIGMA RATING, which, as those of you in the business world know, is pretty hard to do. It means that from a quality perspective, they are virtually never late, rarely ever misplace anything, and hardly ever ruin anything (there are all sorts of fancy metrics around their performance) - basically though, it's as close to a flawless operation as you can get - something that is studied in MBA programs around the world. And those whites? Seriously - whiter than anything I have ever seen.

Pretty amazing, given that grubby water.

So then we headed to the Jain temple. If I remember correctly, this is the richest religion in India, and also the smallest. Their monks NEVER take a bath in their lives, and they yank their hair out at the roots so that they are completely bald. How's that for a beauty operation? This temple is covered in real gold...the doors and the altar are solid silver. It's beautiful.

So there you have it - 2 tourist things about India, from me to you.

OH! And yesterday? Yesterday I took a rickshaw home from the office. Hee!

Yer not in Kansas anymore, yo.

How do I know this, you ask? Observe:

This? This is the lovely view from my swanky hotel room:

And this? A perpetual cricket game THAT IS REALLY PERPETUAL. I don't think these boys have stopped to pee since I got here. Also outside my window.

Ahh, and this - my favorite new mode of transportation. This place is like an anthill of motorized rickshaws.

And finally - see the divider on the right? Um, yeah. AND THAT DRIVER COMING STRAIGHT TOWARD US? One of us is supposed to be on the OTHER SIDE OF that divider, and it ain't us. So much for the effing right of way. Amazingly? I don't feel unsafe driving around. Jamie? Your heart would give out. Never drive or ride in a car here. Lil' safety tip for ya.

And PS: What the *%$# is going on with Blogger formatting lately? Is it just me, or does arranging pictures and trying to figure out this double spacing thing make you want to GOUGE YOUR EYES OUT WITH A MOTORIZED RICKSHAW?

Ahh. India. And excessive capital letterage. My favorites.

Holy Shit! I'm going to India. By myself.

So the last month seems to have gone by in a flash - and right now, I am sitting in the airport President's Club in NY waiting for my SIXTEEN HOUR flight to Mumbai. Or Bombay if you're into all that British colonialism (and you live under a rock).

And although I am meeting 3 colleagues there on Tuesday, they are all leaving the following Sunday, and thus, I will be spending the following week there ALONE. BY MYSELF.

*CRAPPING MY PANTS, whilst Bridget Jones starts to croon "all by myself" in the background*

I am not entirely sure that my capital letter-age adequately captures the severity of my current level of anxiety. Perhaps it's because of this email that Karen sent to me the other day (I would attach a picture, but Grr! I can't get into my email.), where there were wires and electrical hazards all over the place, and people walking around like there was no danger whatsoever...and all I could think about was "Please bless that it never rains there, because I'd hate to be the guy standing in a puddle of water on THAT street at any given moment...".

I'll attach later. But seriously - let's be honest - THAT IS FRIGHTENING. So frightening that I am considering wrapping myself in rubber tires anytime that I may be outdoors, just in case one of those wires decides to make a mad dash for the top of my head.

It could be that I am having nerves because of the SEVEN-POINT-NINE magnitude earthquake in China. Or the FREAKISH CYCLONE in Myanmar, a close neighbor to lovely India.

Or maybe I am just turning into my little ol' blue haired grandma, and there's no helping it. Whatever the case, I'll send pictures (if I ever get any...alas, the beloved Canon is not making this pilgrimage with me, so you'll have to settle for 3.5 mega pixels).

Lay Your Poo on the Table

And maybe your cards too, if you think about it. Ohhhh no. Don't hold back.

So I just got back from a business dinner with...mmm...19 or so guys from India, and during the course of the conversation, I mentioned that my degree was in Sociology. AND I KID.YOU.NOT - one of the guys did that thing - you know - that thing where you LAUGH OUT LOUD FROM YOUR TOES, COVER YOUR MOUTH, AND POINT. And it wasn't the polite, 2 fingered, flight attendant point either. This was the "index-finger-only, point-out-the-dumb-ass" kind of a point. The dumb ass who paid good money to get a degree in sociology, and not in engineering, like the rest of the geniuses sitting at the table.

Editors note: This is where you start humming that one "Sesame Street" song: "...one of these kids is doing his own thing..."

Lovely. Reeeallly lovely. He might as well have plugged his nose, backed up his chair, and proceeded to run from the room with his arms flailing - like you'd do if there was a wad of poo on the dinner table or something.

So I am not quite sure what to make of this - this "happy" encounter. Perhaps it's a cultural thing?

I'm gonna go ahead and tell myself that. That's it - that's how they show respect to their colleagues in India.


AM I RIGHT?



"...come on, can you tell which one?"