The Morning After

Day 2:

Woah…I am waking up in India!  The effects of loosing a whole day have already bestowed upon me a night of helpless time mismanagement.  When I do finally give in to the reality of not sleeping, 6:30-ish, I find ways to prepare for the following day by meticulously cleaning my toiletries, repacking, or quietly plucking my guitar in rhythm with one of the Bollywood hits shown frequently on the plasma screen in my hotel room.  It is a nice room: complete with a plush mattress, marble-looking Western bathroom, and view of a quieter backstreet in the area called Dadar, pronounced Dader, just north of the downtown district.

Around 8:45, I made my way downstairs to the complimentary breakfast.  Jeanine and I had agreed to meet at 9, but when I arrived I found her already finished and looking as unfulfilled with the night’s sleep as me.  We apparently had the same problem of not being able to turn off all the lights, at least not without also turning off the air conditioning, something I wouldn’t dream of sacrificing.  It turns out there’s a button located somewhere near the bed for the naked florescent bulb hanging like mistletoe above the doorway.  Every other light had at least two switches somewhere in the room, but this one didn’t seem to be effected by an combination of them, and I must have tried them all.
The food was amazing!  An array of pancakes, porridges, yogurts, fruits, eggs (apparently not real veg*), toast, juices, and many other delicacies I’ve never considered, especially for breakfast.  There were chutneys, and starchy pineapple tamale-like cakes, varieties of curds, toasts, and dried sprouts.  As I piled my plate with bits of everything, Basil Exposition (blog alias), the India JDC country director, graced us with an unexpected early hour arrival.  As I ate, he told us about the realities of India.  For instance, most people don’t start work until 10; it is not a country in a rush, yet a place where everyone has an opinion on everything.  Throughout our discussion, Jeanine and I continually found ourselves laughing at the directness of our boss’s speech.  Basil really tells it like it is, but softens the blow through a wonderful English accent and frequently interjected humor.  He had to rush off for a funeral occurring within the Indian Jewish community, so Jeanine and I were left to fend for ourselves for the afternoon.  We spent a few hours wandering the area around the hotel, looking for a money change place and lunch. 

We found both.  The bank was not what I would ever imagine as a place for securing anything, much less money.  It was a small office area with a snake-like desk slithering around the whole bottom floor.  The financial books of the bank adorned every inch of the work space while people working seemed unaffected by their towering and overflowing presence.  After the exchange, we began the search for a sit down restaurant of the Indian kind.  There were hoards of people out, but apparently nothing like we’ll see downtown, and traffic of every kind flowed and swelled along side the population.  Like most large cities in the area, the street vendors take up the majority of the sidewalk leaving the pedestrians to walk alongside the nervously honking vehicles in the street. It seems to somehow just work and no one gets killed that doesn’t want to.  It’s a matter of desire, if at any given moment one finds themselves ready for the end, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to just take a few steps further into the street before the bus comes barreling down without regard for road debris, or in this case a human speed bump.  I find it all just bloody amazing!

Jeanine and I stumbled into this eight table establishment and took the available bench near the kitchen.  Not unlike the street, it seemed the entire population waiting for their food took the opportunity to count our hairs and stare without hesitation, especially at Jeanine whom is a non-Indian female, and hasn’t yet acquired the Indian style of loose fitting clothes.  We ordered two dishes, a vegetarian biryani and daal rice.  The food came out in many dishes and when it seemed we had all that was ordered; we dug in, with only our right hand of course.  With baby spoons as serving utensils, I learned that I am a true lefty.  I struggled to get the food into my plate, and even more to get the food into my mouth.  The right hand is the eating had in India.  I observed the way those around me were mixing, balling, and scooping, but couldn’t get the technique without looking like a gluttonous monkey pretending to be a chicken or do its dance.  Jeanine showed me the method her Indian friends had taught her, and I tried to look more refined.  But my damn elbow won’t stay down, so I either lower the food in like a helicopter making a drop, or properly use my thumb to push the food into my mouth with my handicapped elbow doing its own chicken boogie.  The effective practice of the finger eating technique has its benefits.  First of all, no matter what it looks like I am eating incredible foods.  Second, the more I practice the more the restaurant employees seem to enjoy my attempts, and my reactions to their delicious food.  Lastly, I know that as the year progresses, I’ll hone the ability and eat like an Indian native in due time.  We can’t finish the food, and realize that one of the orders would have been enough for the two of us.  The bill comes out to 75 rupees.  At an exchange rate of over rs. 45 to $1, well it was still too much food. :^)

We checked out of the hotel and met Sarah for a tour of her apartment, and the place we’ll be staying for the next week.  It is an awesome place, but unfortunately we won’t be able to keep it because Jeanine and I are not married, or of the same sex.  We still don’t have apartments and the search is ongoing.
Sarah debriefs us on the inter-workings of the JDC office and informs us of a major move going on.  The JCC located upstairs from the office will no longer exist, as the JCC and JDC will be sharing the current JDC space. We take a taxi to the office, and meet some of the workers there, along with Leora our new local boss.  We are given a short tour and the discussion continues.  I’m not really sure what it was we talked about, as the jet-lag of the day set in.  However, we had agreed to join Sarah while she taught the Adult Torah class.  The 6-8 pm class of six, including Sarah, Jeanine, and me, was a nice forum for Jewish discussion.  We read through a few chapters in the first book of Kings making frequent stops to summarize, or input personal reflections and inner meanings.  The small class was alive with energy, especially after the snacks arrived.  The great cookies, biscuits, and samosas (fired triangles stuffed with spiced potato), were all washed down with a great mug of spiced chai.  Can you tell I really like the food here?!

Even through Jeanine and I were exhausted, we pushed through until the end of the session, and promptly requested to do nothing more but find a mattress.
Layla tov Mumbai, you are a confusing and magically right-sided world.  I can’t wait for tomorrow, but let's agree to not wake me up until at least 7 AM.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRnx03QPIzg&feature=related
if nothing else, close your eyes, and imgaine this sound 24/7. Sleep tight!