"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow."

This week seems to be creeping by. Today we had a really interesting guest speaker, Rene Jensen, who just happens to me Mark's cousin. He lives in Bombay and works for Maersk and spoke with us about cross-cultural management and shared some of his extensive experiences living in what he called "exotic" countries (aka developing nations and emerging markets). He had some great insights and was really refreshing to listen to because he was funny and energetic. A huge change of pace from the presenters/professors that usually stand before us in Room 504.

We had all been a big fan on the bathroom on the 5th Floor of Welingkar. We used to speak of its magical qualities (many its flower that literally sparkled) and how it was our favorite bathroom in Bombay. But as our time here has lengthened, it has lost its sparkle, as has much of Bombay. I think it's because with the new batch of students we are no longer the sole occupants of the 5th Floor, we have lots of company. And they seem to have, what I can only imagine based on the state of the bathroom, is Toilet Paper parties on the weekend. So then Monday/Tuesday are recovery days in which we often have to spend a good portion of our class breaks demanding toilet paper be put back into the bathroom. I can't complain too much, however, because we are invited to use the Executive Bathroom if the regular "Madams" or "Adams" bathroom isn't up to snuff.

These days though, I seem to walk around with a perennial lump in my throat, with any single event threatening to collapse me into a puddle of tears. I never used to cry (just ask my Mom) over much of anything, except perhaps the occasional broken heart, but here I feel as if anything will put me over the edge. I think this goes back to how overwhelming everything is here, from the smells to the sights. And walking down the street surrounded by a language that despite my studying, I still can't decipher, and having a sneaking suspicion they are talking about you but having no idea what they are saying. That is extremely unsettling. There is one particular corner I must pass everyday on my way to school and back, and on my way to the gym and back that. This seems to be the popular "hangout" spot and reminds me of the smoking corner that used to exist outside of AIS when I was living in Vienna. This is where all the "cool, rebellious" kids just loiter and think that they are all that and a bag of potato chips, which they are not, I assure you. But every time I walk past this corner, I get the heebie jeebies because they all stare and say stuff... which I'm sure is aimed at me. I'm just waiting for my Hindi to be polished enough to give back some smart retort like "I know what you're saying," even if I don't, it'll give them a good scare.

But today as I was walking back for our talk with Mark's cousin, I had that perennial lump, a new fixture in my life as I was trying to cheer myself up and convince myself that it's not too much longer, and I can do it, piece of cake. But it almost broke my heart because I saw this little puppy whining. And it was so innocent, and helpless and I just wanted to pick it up and take it home. But I'm sure it was disease-ridden, and I know there is no SPCA-equivalent here to care for it, so it just about broke my heart. And then of course I started thinking about my babies at home, Kenny and Sophie, and how I miss their cuddles and sheer excitement of seeing you when you walk through the door. And it's funny, because I am so numb to almost anything here. I can walk by a homeless family and not feel a thing, because you have to, it's a coping/defense mechanism. As my Mom says, I am in a shell, but I have to be, or else no one could survive here. But for some reason, this little furball of a puppy broke through my shell today, and I do hope it's okay.

Does that make me heartless? Allowing a puppy to solicit my sympathy, when I can turn the other cheek walking by a small child. I like to think that I am still the compassionate, caring person I always was. But Mom may not be so far-fetched when she talks about me having to be "re-programmed" upon my return home. I can be taught how to smile, hug, and laugh again. This is painting a rather dire picture of my outlook right now, but I hope that my spirits lift once I escape Bombay for a few days. Because I don't want to feel like this. And I am actively trying not to, making sure to get fresh air, eat as well as I can, and work out every day. But I can't help it. I have to walk with my head down on the streets so I don't become unhinged by everyone's piercing stares and cry for help. The sad thing is, you can't help everyone, so we've been told repeatedly not to help anyone or it will only make you a target in the neighborhood. Plus I've also been assured, that money or food won't help because often the beggar children are working for someone else that will take anything they get, so you are only feeding the vicious cycle. But it's still hard and makes me feel like a bad person.

Have I mentioned lately how excited I am to go home in 50 days? The thought of walking through customs in the Philly airport and seeing my Dad (since Mom will probably be at work) brings tears to my eye... and like I said, I'm no crier. But little things like seeing my puppies, seeing my room, laying on a comfortable bed, taking a nice shower where I actually feel clean afterwards, having clean clothes with a fresh warm smell straight from the dryer, being able to smile at people on the street, walking with my head up tall, and getting rid of this stinking rash... these are just a few of the things I'm looking forward to. Not to mention the hundreds and hundreds of hugs I'll demand :-)

I wanted to be scared again... I wanted to feel unsure again. That's the only way I learn, the only way I feel challenged. -- Connie Chung

You have powers you never dreamed of. You can do things you never thought you could do. There are no limitations in what you can do except the limitations of your own mind.
-- Darwin P. Kingsley

"They that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:31

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Philippians 4:13

"Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experiences of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired and success achieved."

Proceed with Patience

My day Sunday was spent entirely within the confines of the hostel (which in retrospect was a very good thing considering the small scary incident my roommate encountered) and therefore the day went rather slowly. I did, however, enjoy the 5-hour Simpsons Halloween Marathon with Stella. We ordered pizza and enjoyed just laying in the cool ACed room. The gym was closed for maintenance, and I was rather disappointed as my daily workout is usually the highlight of my day and allows me to work out any of my frustrations from the day. I did "cook" some peach crumble (courtesy of freeze dried camp meals) for Stella and I last night, and that was a tasty way to end an otherwise troubling evening.

Today, we had our IT Perspectives class. Yawn. This class is horrendously boring and rather torturous. To add injury to insult, the class ran long by about 40 minutes. 3 hours, 40 minutes of that class is 3 hours, 40 minutes too long. After the IT class, I came back to the hostel for a nap, lately I have been chronically tired before heading to the gym.

I enjoyed my time at the gym, as always, and headed back to the hostel in an effort to make my plans for travels at the end of November (Thanksgiving weekend) to go to Delhi and Agra (to see the Taj). Figuring out the Indian Railway System is beyond frustrating, and most of the information on more touristy sites is horrible out of date. It probably doesn't help that a lot of the sites I visited showed pictures of the trains, which has made me rather hesitant about my extensive train travel on my upcoming trip (including 2 20+ hour long train rides).

I finally managed to figure out a train schedule from Delhi to Agra, but Stella and I would also like to go to Varanasi to the Ganges River and the holiest site to Hindus (where they go to die). It is impossible and beyond frustrating to attempt to arrange travel. Interestingly enough though, I did find one website that almost let me make a reservation. Part of the form to fill out asked if there were any "Special Concessions" needed, a few of the options from the drop down menu included "leprosy," "blind," "cancer patient," "deaf and dumb," and then my favorites "artist" or "circus performance/lower class." I guess we don't require any Special Concessions, as I plan on leaving my batons and unicycle (that's for you Brett) back in Bombay.

Hopefully we can figure out our plans, if not, we will just settle for traveling from Delhi to Agra long enough to see the Taj and then go back to Delhi (since our flight comes in to and leaves from Delhi, we have 3 days of Corporate Visits, so Welingkar is covering the cost of our flight). My frustration is at an all time high this evening, so instead I will "cook" some dinner, eat out of a foil pouch , and call it a night

McDonald's mein hai kuch baat

Yesterday we had another round of company visits. We went to meet with Godrej Properties (a real estate company) and McDonald's (needs no explanation). We left school, late as usual, and headed to the first visit. The bus's AC was on overdrive, so we were all freezing upon arriving. Our time at Godrej was interesting but rather uneventful (and the AC in the room was also on overdrive). It was sort of weird that they had a co-ed bathroom that was mirrored on all walls (including inside the stalls). Not sure what that says about the employees at Godrej...

We then had a break for lunch so headed to Colaba Causeway. I shopped my way to Leopold's restaurant, picking up a few more trinkets for people at home. I then decided I want to have some McDonald's fries before our visit to make sure I had the Indian McDonald's experience before meeting with them (little did I know our meeting with corporate would be in McDonald's in the birthday party room) and the cashier was tickled pink to be serving on me. I don't think you see McDonald's cashiers that excited to wait on you in the US. He kept confirming that I was from the US... probably to make sure he had the details right to share with his family later that night.

He was probably more than a little shocked when I returned less than an hour later escorted by the store manager on a kitchen tour. I hope he thinks that I was a "secret shopper" and gave him a glorious review, because I feel like that would make his day. Our time at McDonald's was long (4 hours) and the chairs were hard. This is probably because McD's doesn't want to encourage you to loiter around for hours on end (although they do offer Wi-Fi access). The kitchen tour was pretty neat, and everyone was estactic we were there, but I feel like we were definitely in the way. The kitchen was cool because it was divided into non-veg and veg parts. And there was no intermingling of the two... down to the color of the appron. We also got to walk into the deep freezer... why they brought us in there is beyond me. It was the size of a small walk-in closet and we hardly fit.

We then finished the afternoon with the marketing manager showing us practically every McD commecial ever aired in India over the last 5 years and asking for our input. We aren't their target market though, so I'm not sure what insight they were looking for. But we got a free meal out of it (after I had spent a dollar for my fries just a few hours earlier... instead of a dollar menu, they have a Rs 20 menu, which is about $0.50).

Afterwards, we piled into the bus (we often have to jump off or into a moving bus because our bus can never park and can't block traffic... who knew corporate visits would be an en extreme sport) and headed back for school. I then made a quick jaunt over to the gym to get some cardio in and some frustration out and then settled in for a night of laptop TV watching. I also may have earned "American Entertainer of the Year" award here in the hostel, because I let the Indian girls borrow my extensive collection of DVDs I brought here. Just call me the Bombay Blockbuster. They were very grateful, and it's nice to continue to build some nice relations with the girls I share this stinker of a hostel with.

This morning (Saturday) I slept in and then talked to one of my best friends for about an hour and a half on Skype. After this I got my butt out of bed and went over to the gym. On the way to the gym (which involves walking two blocks to the main street, crossing the street (always an adventure), and then climbing over a wall (no lie) and walking in a little path alongside the park (cricket field) to reach my gym (Inch-by-Inch) at the back of the field. There is often a family living on the sidewalk outside the park, complete with their laundry hanging on the wall and a fire cooking their dinner and there are always little kids around. I was surprised not to see any. But as I walked along the path all these little boys called "Hello" out to me (my Indian fan club has members of all ages, we don't discriminate, in fact even YOU could join ;-)) and I made the mistake of looking over at them. Well alongside the path, in a slightly shaded (very trash filled area) was a line of 6 or 7 little boys pooping. This is a rather natural occurance here... people pooping in public. But did they really feel the need to be social with me while they were clearly busy? Ew!! There's really no need to question why this country smells like poop so often (including oftentimes my shower water, gross, don't get me started... I will shower 50 times before I agree to see any of you in person :-)).

Anywho. Went to the gym and did a little cardio but mostly weight training. Came back and showered and then tackled once again my resume. I've been getting a lot of feedback on it, so I am now trying to incorporate all the feedback and create the best product to get employer's attention. I think I may send my resume out to a few companies this week (I know I keep saying I'm going to do that, and then I don't) before I leave for my big Diwali trip to Rajasthan (p.s.- was watching The Office the other day and it was an episode on Diwali and Steve Carrell at one point sang "The Diwali Song" after Adam Sandler's "The Hannukah Song"). But my only other objective for my day is to create more Ellie B elephants (get it? L.E.B) to send off to people with custom-made poems. If you're lucky, you might just find one in your mailbox (if I ever actually get them written and assembled).

I'm going to go enjoy a protein bar for dinner and put on this week episode's of Grey's Anatomy I downloaded on iTunes. India has made me rather bi-polar (no, not like that... Indian style) whereas I often feel manic-depressive (no, not like that...) as in sometimes I am "okay" with being in India (okay is the new happy, okay is as good as it gets here folks... happy will resume in 53 days) but then sometimes I am very "anti-India." Now this can change instantly from one second to another, but often changes day by day. So today? Feeling a little anti-India. I would very much like to go home, as usual. But at the same time, I am very excited about my trip to Rajasthan!! I will post my itinerary and then of course post updates upon my return. But I will be incommunicado from 3 Nov-13 Nov. I will be safe though. My parents will, of course, call me every day (they are worried, but I wouldn't have it any other way) so no one has need for concern.

I leave you with this: McDonald's mein hai kuch baat

Mujhe jane do

http://picasaweb.google.com/lbarteld/MomInMumbai

Aaj guruvar hai, kal budhvar tha, kal shukravar hai

Well life goes on. Back into the routine of spending all waking hours in two locations: F3 or Room 504. Luckily to break up the monotomy, I go to the gym for about an hour a day.

We had a busy week in school with an HR presentation and two tests in Finance. We get to drop 1 out of 4 tests in Finance, and I am pretty sure the second Finance test this week will be the one to be dropped.

We pay about 4X as much as the typical Indian student to attend Welingkar and live in their glorious hostel. Yet, they spend $125 total on our textbooks. We have been given 12 textbooks... which tells you that the rough cost of each textbook can't be much more than $10. In fact, our Finance textbook, as usually the "Cheap Indian Version for Sale Only on the Subcontinent of India" was $8.96 and is complete with typos and erroneous answers. So perhaps some of the funds they allocated to get us a fridge that is too big for our room and the killing they are making off our housing fees could go towards getting us up-to-date and accurate textbooks! Of all the materials, you would think current and accurate textbooks would be high on the priority list.

So needless to say, frustrations with the academic structure of the program here have been running rampant through our little dysfunctional family of 14. Homesickness is at an all time high, most of us are sick because of the recent weather change (a favorable change to sunny skies though!), and overly frustrated by the lack of communication and structure.

I have decided to accept the frustrations (not sitting down though, we are drafting a letter to Temple) and chalk it up to my time in India being more about the "cultural experience" and corporate visits than the instruction inside the walls of the incredibly shrinking Room 504.

This evening I finally have an evening without a test looming overhead, and I plan on enjoying it by watching a movie or some TV. Tomorrow we have a corporate visit to a real estate company and then to McDonald's India.

This coming weekend is my last in Bombay for two weeks as I leave on November 3rd for my big adventure to Rajasthan. I will be gone from 3 Nov until 12 Nov, so I will have a guarenteed plethora of adventures to fill everyone in on during my return.

For now, it's getting organized as well as getting out some more resumes for career prospects.

But the good news? Only 55 more days.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone...

Well, it's sort of like waking up from a great dream... only to realize you were dreaming. Such is life back here in reality. "Back to life, back to reality."

I slept horribly on Saturday night (despite Mom's mattress topper... the bed still doesn't compare to anything humanly comfortable) and woke up sick on Sunday. Not only home sick, but also physically sick with a sore throat, congestion, and an achey body. Spent all of Sunday in my lovely hostel, attempting to nurse myself back to health and get caught up on some work. Wound up being successful on both counts.

Thanks to Mom, I am know eating three "meals" (I use the term loosely) a day. Makes a world of difference and means I will hopefully not get sick so often now that I should be getting some nutrients.

I had 7 hours of class yesterday, and all 7 hours were extremely boring and I was very antsy. Maybe I do have Restless Leg Syndrom, that commercial back in the States always convinces me I do, but I am honestly always so antsy between my twisted back and my legs, so maybe there is some truth to the matter. After my long frustrating day dealing with the disorganization of our program here, I went to the gym to blow off some steam. I then settled back in the hostel with the hopes of going to bed early, only to find myself losing power for extended periods of time, multiples times in the night. Argh!!! Sitting in a dingy, dark, and hot hostel is not my idea of a good time.

Yes, welcome back to reality Leah.

Luckily the weather here in Mumbai has been overly pleasant the last couple of days. Relatively cool (low 80's) and sunny.

57 more days to go and counting. I can do this. I really have no choice.

Mom's Visit: Part III

Plan: Driver to pick Mom up from the Marriott at 21:30

Actual: Plane delayed. Driver to pick Mom up from Marriott at 22:30. Sound familiar?

Mom's Visit: Part II

Days are starting to go too quickly. It’s now Wednesday.

Plan: Lounge around hotel and have spa treatments at 1:30.

Actual: Lounge around hotel and pool and have numerous confrontations with spa, to finally have rescheduled treatments at 3:30, worth the wait.

In the evening, we hosted some of Leah’s classmates (Rachel, Carey, and Stella) over to our room for their weekly “Ugly Betty Night” (Leah: Ugly Betty Marriott Style). We ordered room service pizza, and I had a fall party for them with apples and caramel, candy corn, banana bread and cookie decorating. The treats were a hit. We gave them food, they gave us moldy laundry to have cleaned.

After the girls left, I had scheduled a time (10:30 pm Mumbai time) to talk to my classes back at Bo Manor (1 pm Maryland time). Spent about 45 minutes talking with the kids and substitute. Then Leah and I watched our first episode of Gilmore Girls from the First Season DVD set I brought her.

A very full day!

Thursday (Thanksgiving):

With very little prep work required for the big Thanksgiving dinner scheduled for room 274 that evening, we spent the day shopping. We took a cab over to Leah’s hostel. We had planned to go to Leah’s Human Resource class, but for some reason Welingkar refused Leah’s request, so she skipped too. I did my best to make her 4 inch mattress filled with god knows what on a slab of plywood feel more comfortable with a memory foam topper, new blanket, and pillow from home. We carried two more bags of food over to stock her “pantry” and organized her loot.

Then we set out for Leah to show me her neighborhood. Have we mentioned cow diarrhea yet? Leah was kind enough to save my shoes and point out a pile, we were debating its size and settled on 12x18x2 inch slab. I’ll never be able to eat fudge from Candy Kitchen again. I enjoyed exploring her neighborhood though. We visited her bangle lady (to get jewelry to go with our new outfits), the local convenience store (to pick up spices and Indian sweets), and did some sari fabric shopping (you can never have enough). Even Leah discovered a new store she’ll return to (one with fixed prices, which is very nice). I was particularly fond of the bangle lady, who remembered Leah from before, and put together beautiful sets of colors for us, offered us cold drinks, and gave us free earrings to match our bangles. Things will be easier to visualize when Leah tells me she has shopped for a new box of cereal. I also went to the Matching Center (they have these in Dubai) where you can buy literally any color or shade of solid pattern fabric (this is meant to be able to match all saris to make the little tops). I bought fabric for a yearbook project.

It was now time to head back to paradise and get out of the grim and filth. We hailed a cab and the adventure began. The driver was a little erratic for my tastes to start with, but after he started smoking his joint he seemed to be less erratic. We know he used the brake quite often because there was a melody of horns which played each time he touched the brake, which is quite often here in Mumbai, during the one hour cab ride.

The taxis, old, very old Fiats, are run on an archaic meter system, so a “conversion” must be made using the fare card (Leah: which is the meter reading times 13), which some taxi drivers claim to conveniently not carry (Leah: they are all required to). An hour long taxi journey usually costs about $3.00.

Upon arrival, this taxi driver claimed to have no fare card and Leah quickly did the math to figure out the correct amount. However, she didn’t have small enough change, so had to ask for change. The taxi driver refused to give her the right amount of the change. Even though he only cheated her out of 50 cents, she fought it out of the principle of it (Leah: I hate being cheated by cab drivers here, don’t they know I’m not a tourist?) using her limited Hindi. He won.

On our way back to the room, we caught our version of The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade complete with balloons, clowns, music, and floats. This was also known as “Arnav’s Second Birthday: Welcome to Nursery Land” that was being lavishly thrown on the terrace on our floor. The theme was “Old McDonald’s Farm” with a DJ (Leah: Who was probably embarrassed to have his set include Mary Had a Little Lamb, Baa Baa Black Sheep, and This Old Man. I did want to go and crash the party long enough to steal a dolphin balloon though.), balloon animal making clown, a train ride, and a full Marriott buffet. I’m sure Arnav will remember it will thanks to the photographers/videographers.

We had our appetizer course in the Executive Lounge, wine, Fanta, and cheese and crackers. 7:30 pm, time to start cooking (or softening… in the US we thaw the turkey, here we reconstitute it) Thanksgiving dinner. We had freeze-dried turkey in gravy, instant mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes, canned green beans, Stove Top (or coffee mug) stuffing, and TastyKake Pumpkin Pie. Our center piece was a tea light candle and candy corn. Our salt and pepper shakers and flatware were courtesy of Delta Airlines.

We were just finishing up our dinner when our house keeper came for turn down service. Busted. He started washing our Thanksgiving dishes; I’ll try to fit him in the suitcase to bring home for the real deal. I explained to him that we were celebrating an American holiday, if he even knows about Thanksgiving, he’s probably very confused now about it’s date.

We settled in for another episode of Gilmore Girls and then watched “Must See TV” for Leah’s Thursday shows (The Office, Two and a Half Men, The Sketch Show, and The Big Bang Theory). Leah’s a little worried she’s going to be an entire season behind if she tries to watch these shows in the States (but the least of her worries in life).

Friday:

6:40 alarm. (Leah: Ouch!). Breakfast and taxi ride over to the hostel. We were before rush hour, so the taxi ride (with AC) bordered on enjoyable in terms of traffic and number of times I had to apply my backseat brake. But because it was early, not everyone was awake on the street yet. And many who were just waking up were relieving themselves on the sidewalk, apparently the local food upsets many Indian stomachs as well. (Leah: In all fairness, you were asking for it, as you commented “Well things look a bit better when we’re in AC). The only traffic jam we encountered were the cows still sleeping in the road. We opted for the AC ride because it was only $1.25 more than non-AC. Not really a question there.

I did get permission (Leah: I was never told she could or couldn’t go, so we went) to go on Leah’s weekly company visits. We boarded a bus and waited and waited and waited for Leah’s coordinator to show up. Our first visit was to CNBC TV18. What is most unusual about this studio is that CNBC and CNN are together under one parent company/broadcaster. It was a very fascinating three hour visit, and I got to meet the rest of her classmates. We left the studio to head North to visit what we thought was a interesting bridge linking East and West Mumbai. For lunch, the bus dropped us off in a very nice neighborhood (more resembling Dubai than Mumbai) (Leah: In fact, many of us were sure we’d left the country), and we had lunch at KFC. We then walked to a shopping plaza and got dessert and a two liter bottle of water (Leah: For a grand total of 50 cents! The prices in Mumbai I will miss for sure).

(Leah: We were, of course, on time (early) for our 3 pm assured pick up at the corner and sat around waiting until 3:15 for the bus to show up, then waited another 15-20 minutes for the remainder of my classmates to show up. Lateness is a very aggravating pet peeve of mine!)

On our way to our second visit, I was saddened to see the number of bare bottom children sleeping or sitting on the street. The sanitary conditions are shocking. Leah tells me that 50% of the population live in slums or are homeless. Many of these people are employed, however. After circling under an overpass multiple times and watching a three or four year old boy nap within a couple of feet of our bus’s exhaust pipe, we realized we were at our destination. (Leah: You can imagine the chorus of protests coming from myself and classmates that we were not told this “company” visit was to a shack/makeshift office under an overpass where we were going to visit a road). Before the dust even settled from our bus parking in a dirt lot under the overpass, we were escorted into a building (Leah: That resembled a bunker from WWI) and into a conference room (Leah: You’re using the term loosely I presume?).

We met with the Chief Engineer for the Project and a representative from the Roads Department of Mumbai. The stretch of road connects the eastern parkway to the western parkway and will cut 2 hours of commute time off for most people’s journeys and is entirely funded by the World Bank. They did serve us water and plates of potato chips and cookies. We felt safe about the chips and cookies, but the water bottles arrived opened so we did not test the water. We spent about 45 minutes there. An assurance from the Chief Engineer that a visit to the place they originally thought they were going would be arranged. Leah will have to fill me in on that. (Leah: The conference room probably hadn’t been used since November of 2006, since that is what the calendar still read. Perhaps that is why they think their March of ’08 deadline is so reasonable, they still have more than a year left!).

(Leah: Mom insisted on riding in a rickshaw. Why? I don’t know. But since we were in a Northern suburb, we could catch a rickshaw back to the Marriott. We had the bus drop us off alongside the road to catch a rickshaw. Little did we know that catching a rickshaw would be such a life endangering adventure. After many failed attempts to catch a rickshaw on the side of the highway we were on, we had to cross the highway. NOT FUN. We managed to make it to the other side in one piece, and Mom’s heart still in tact, and eventually caught a rickshaw (with a cross-eyed driver). Halfway on our journey, however, the rickshaw pulled up next to another rickshaw to ask if he could take us the rest of the way. Why? We don’t know, it’s India. That driver agreed to take us but as we got out of our current rickshaw, the other rickshaw already has a passenger. Our original driver drove us further until he could find a rickshaw to transfer us to. After a very long and hot ride, we eventually made it back to the blessed sights of the Marriott gates.)

We washed the grim and grit off from the trip and headed to the Executive Lounge for dinner and a nightly chat with John. When we returned to our room, Nandu, the housekeeper, had left us a beautiful plate of chocolates. The hotel was bustling with the anticipation of Gazillion’s (Leah: Chamillionare, a hip hop artist from the States) concert. Our favorite lounge worker, Pooja, was hoping to be able to hear part of the concert, and also alerted us to the fact that the “Gardner” from the Desperate Housewives was also staying with us (Jesse Metcalf). We saw neither.

We watched two episodes of Gilmore Girls, finishing off the first disc of Season One.

Saturday: Last Day, Day of Mourning

We were awoken by Leah’s alarm (Leah: Oops. You know, my alarm goes off even when my phone is switched off? Isn’t that strange! If I had my phone switched off, clearly I didn’t want the alarm to go off). And headed to the Executive Lounge for breakfast. The first task of the morning was to start to organize luggage and be prepared for customs. We discovered, however, Leah does not fit into a suitcase. But everything else did, including the suitcase of clothes she is sending home that she refuses to wear in this environment and risk washing here.

A couple of people commented when I was packing food for Leah, that wouldn’t it be funny if right next to the Marriott would be an American-style grocery store. There is. (Leah: Correction, this is hardly an “American-style grocery store” just because they have grocery carts. Still the only things I can eat off their shelves are cookies, cereal, and soup. Hardly a nutritious alternative to starvation, and it smells bad). Today was our second visit to pick up spices and aluminum foil (the other day we bought spices, drinks, a dish sponge and soap, and Leah treated us to Palmier Cookies (bear claws) reminiscent of our visit to Gerad’s in Dubai). A fellow lounge dweller tipped me off to the place. I overheard her talking about pumpkin pie. I asked her where she found pumpkin here. She hadn’t, but told me of this market down the street. You just have to be very careful walking there (no sidewalk the whole way) and be able to ignore the begging children.

Upon our return we thought we would take some photos of the Marriott, wrong. Apparently we are under a “Code Red” and therefore not allowed to take pictures. Too bad we don’t listen. You can see evidence of our crime on Leah’s photo site.

On our way to our last visit at the pool, I thought I better at least put my toes in the sand of the beach of the Arabian Sea. Oh. My. God. A gazillion (Leah: As opposed to the hip hop artist she thought was here last night) dead fish everywhere. You couldn’t walk without stepping on dead fish. And the smell? Well, it is fitting of all the dead fish. Unfortunately we didn’t have any money with us so the boy and monkey that approached us finally went away. After a very short walk on the beach, we returned to the guard house for entrance back onto the Marriott grounds and staked out a lounge chair poolside. Apparently a couple of the dead fish made their way into the pool courtesy of the gazillion and a half pigeons and crows that live by the pool (and use it as their bird bath and restaurant). I had a standoff with a crow one day at the pool. I covered the food with a napkin. The crow would come, remove the napkin, and steal a piece of food. I would shoo him. Recover the food and the process would begin again. He tried to be very sneaky. Obviously well trained.

That brings us here, of course back to the Executive Lounge for lunch and updating the blog and pictures (free internet in the lounge). We will finish up our day with a game and an episode of Gilmore Girls and be ready to sadly be taken away by a driver at 9:30. I have the Marriott until tomorrow at Noon, but Leah will probably chose to have the driver dropped her back at her humble abode to have the comfort of friends while she’s coping with my leaving. I will probably worry more about her now that I have been here. Not the intent of my visit. Keep praying.

Mom in Mumbai!

I decided to let Mom take over the blog to share her journey to India and her reactions upon arriving. Enjoy her take on the adventures!

You Can’t Get There From Here

10/11/07 Plan: Scheduled to leave at the end of the school day for a flight from Philly at 6:00

Actual: Call from John at 11:30 that my 6:00 flight was cancelled, rebooked at 3:20 must leave school at 12:30. First panic, or panic first?!

New Plan: Get classroom coverage and arrive at Philly in time for 3:20 flight.

Actual: Arrived on time, bags only 1 pound over each and third bag allowed to travel for free. Things are looking up! Checked in and headed to lounge. Flight now delayed until 4:15…then 4:45….finally board. Ready to go. Plane pushed back…headed to taxi….”Hello this is your pilot. JKF just closed. We hope to be able to leave in 2 ½ hours, but we are returning to the gate to deplane. Sit. Call John for update from his computer on what is really going on. Sit. Call John. Scheduled out at 6:50. Sit, Call John, my flight from JFK to Mumbai is delayed so I’ll be fine.

New Plan: Finally board again. Wheels up at 8:15. Still in time to catch my 9:30 (now 9:50) flight to Mumbai.

Actual: Land in JFK before 9:00. Gather hand luggage which was taken at the gate and head to the lounge. It is now 9:15 and they are schedule to close at 9:30. I have only snacked on “Leah” food that I packed in my carry on. Good news. Lounge will stay open for flight, but all restaurants and lounge food are closed! Flight now scheduled for 10:45.

New Plan: Head to gate at 10:15.

Actual: At gate learn departure changed to 11:00….then 11:30. Finally we board and sit and sit and sit. Problem with entertainment system and chief flight attendant doesn’t want to leave without working system. FINALLY take off at 1:00 am after running out of school panicked at 11;30 pm! Ate dinner at 2:00 am! Time to call it a day.

Arrived in Mumbai at 12:24 am Saturday local time (3 pm Friday home time) 32 hours after running out of BMHS to catch my flight. Sailed through immigration, but panicked at customs. I never fudge on customs forms, so I answered the form that I have “no meat products” and “no fruit,” only to find now that my bags will be scanned and they are sure to see the 2 months worth of food I have packed for Leah. Luckily, no problems! I was relieved to see that Leah had paid the money to gain entrance into the arrival area, she was easy to spot in the crowd (Leah: I made her a brightly colored sign with elephants on it, just in case she didn’t recognize me)! I’m glad that she paid the money though, cause I’m not sure I would have spotted her as easily in the massive crowd outside the arrivals area. I now know why international flights arrive in Mumbai late at night, traffic wasn’t too bad and you couldn’t see much of the sights.

Leah had rented a car and driver, so we had no problem getting transportation to the Marriott. I missed most of the sights Leah tried to point out, but did manage to see cab drivers sleeping on the roofs of their taxis, some lights up early in preparation for Diwali, and crazy drivers (Leah: She didn’t even know the half of it!).

Finally, we made it into our room at the Marriott by 3 am. Went to sleep shortly after arriving in the room, but not before unveiling some of the treats to Leah that I had brought her. We both slept for a while, until I woke Leah up because I couldn’t sleep anymore. We spent the day exploring the Marriott and enjoying the Executive Lounge I had talked my way into it, claiming John to be a Gold Marriott Rewards member (in all fairness, I thought he was). The facilities are beautiful and deceiving. Self-described as on the pristine Arabian Sea, but NOT. Well, they are on the Arabian Sea, but it is far from pristine. More treats and goodies revealed. Also, enjoyed our first spa treatment.

First Adventure (Sunday): Taxi to hostel (45 minutes). Oh. My. God. Try as I might, “my brake” in the taxi didn’t work (the same one I liked to use when the girls were learning to drive). And no seatbelts. Oh. My. God. Arrive at the hostel with two bags of the loot. First Impression of dorm: Oh. My. God. Her pictures make it look better than it actually is. I don’t know anyone who lives that way, other than Leah now. Dirty. Small. Dark. Smelly. Then we picked up Carey and headed to the train station (Victoria Terminus) with the hopes of buying the train tickets for the girl’s trip during Diwali. Another taxi ride (45 minutes). These girls are very brave with their exploring. The train station didn’t pan out (Leah: Apparently we can’t order tickets until the day before our trip leaves, at which point there are only “4 Foreign Visa Spots” reserved… and there are 4 of us traveling, sounds like a bad start to a trip). So Leah and I hopped a taxi to head back to the Marriott. Taxi ride (hour and a half). The Taxi driver didn’t even know where the Marriott was, but luckily Leah’s a good navigator, and managed to get us there.

The taxis were not air conditioned, so the windows are down. The fumes and the smells are gagging and nauseating. Everything just comes at you so fast, Leah tried to point things out to me, but I couldn’t even grasp them. There was too much to take in. And then traffic was slow for a while at the.. what was that place (Leah: The Haji Ali) and there must have been 10,000 people in line (or more than a stadium’s worth). Hopefully they all get out to the mosque and back before the tide comes in and covers the walkway.

Daily recap: Spent 3 hours in a taxi, and accomplished nothing. (Leah: Welcome to India Mom).

That evening we went to the dinner buffet and planned our Monday outing.

Second Adventure (Monday): After our morning ritual at the Executive Lounge, we met our driver, Saldanha, and headed first to the hostel to deliver a suitcase (which wouldn’t fit in the trunk of the little car) and swap it out for a suitcase Leah is sending home. At least this car was air conditioned. This is a much more civilized way to travel (except for the accident we were in and the chase that pursued. License plate MH 02 3974 if you see him!). Brief stop at the hostel and we were off to the Gateway of India and the Taj Hotel (Leah: No relation to the Taj Mahal, that’s in Agra, India). We had to buy a disposable camera, because Leah forget hers (Leah: I carry my camera everywhere! But I took it out of my purse to take a picture of our completed dolphin puzzle we had been assembling). We stayed at the Gateway long enough to take a picture and leave because we seemed to be a bigger attraction than the Gateway. Leah misunderstood, thinking someone wanted us to take a picture of them. Little did she know, they wanted to take a picture with her! Then we headed (Leah: in Mom’s case “tripped her way.” Mom bruised her foot and was hobbling around the rest of the day) to one of Leah’s favorite merchants (Leah: Rajesh).

After making a haul at Rajesh’s stall, we mentioned we were interested in sari fabric. One of his trusty assistants lead us down an alley and up many flights of steps to the “other side” where I hope Leah never ventures by herself. Reminiscent of the upstairs hidden rooms behind mirror walls found in Dubai when shopping for purses. We were instructed to remove our shoes and sit on the cushioned area as bolts and bolts of saris were unfolded before us. Much more elaborate than our budget would allow. But we did buy outfits for the Ebb Tide Christmas Open House. Pictures from the disposable camera (Leah: I know, I know!) will follow.

We limped our way back to the driver to proceed to our next stop, the Haji Ali. The traffic was bad (again) and there was no place for us to stop and take a picture. We then headed to the Dhobi Ghats (Leah: laundry colony), where the driver illegally parked so we could hop out and take a picture. We were exhausted and frustrated and just told the driver to take us back to the hotel.

Daily recap: We hired a driver for 7.25 hours (which only cost $25 total) but we spent 5.25 hours driving (Leah: sitting in traffic), with only 2 hours actually spent walking around.

We had dinner at the Italian Restaurant, again, Mezzo Mezzo, if only food would stay with Leah.

Tuesday:

Plan: Get up, get dressed, carry more food to dorm, attend Finance class, attend Hindi, and shop in Matunga.

Actual: My foot swollen and throbbing and Leah in intestinal distress. Got dressed, but never made it out of the hotel. Instead, went back to bed and caught up on much needed sleep.

Spent most of the delightful day by the pool, with a nice breeze blowing (keeps the foul smell away). Was a good decision to have another Marriott (Leah: Mom had enough of India exposure).

Going back in time...

I am seething mad.

Apparently the second half of my time in India, is going to begin like the first half of my journey--with a lot of water.

The washing machine at the hostel has been off limits for over a week. This was due to the water shortage we were experiencing from "too many girls living in the hostel." Well some of my buds tried to wash their clothes and had success, so I thought I would try it today. There was a week-old note that said there wasn't water for the washer, but we had been told the water ban had been lifted. So, since someone else had used the machine and it had gone well, I tried my luck.

No, the machine is BROKEN. When did I find this out? After my clothes had been loaded, powdered soap added, and water filled up to 6 inches.... but ONLY 6 inches... the water kept running, but simultaneously kept draining. So, I had to ring out my clothes, load them up in a bucket, carry them up a flight of stairs (that may be my workout for the day) and sit in the shower room and rinse out my clothes.

Needless to say they are DRIPPING WET and still quite soapy. So I have them on a drying rack in my room, praying they dry in time for me to pack them up for the Marriott tomorrow. But I feel like I live in the dark ages, trying to wash a full load of laundry by hand because they can't seem fit to give us a washer than works or tell us that it is, indeed broken. Apparently some of the other girls complained (I was told this as I was carrying my sopping clothes up the stairs) but no one has listened, so they want us, "the Americans" to complain so it will actually get fixed.

So my clothes are already abused in Indian... but now they are drenched, soapy, and probably have the capability to flood my hostel room.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH.

If anyone wants to know what to get me for Christmas/Birthday when I return home... apparently clothes, seeing as I'll have none after they'll all been destroyed by India!

Happy Halfway!

Everything I Need to Know, I Learned in India

PDA between a man and woman is frowned upon… however men openly hug, hold hands, and walk with their arms around each others’ waist. In fact, at the Gokulashtami festival there were two male students on the ground grinding against one another dancing. So that’s okay? But don’t think twice about holding hands with your husband, gasp! Although, there is “make out park” behind our hostel where cute little couples sit in a muddy park on dilapidated benches and show enough PDA to make any passerby blush.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, has a job here. The shops are often filled with enough sales people for every single shopper to have their own personal assistant. There are also no “racks” to shift through, this means whatever you want you have to ask someone to show you. Which means they will show you 20 different items, none of which you want. “Hm, you didn’t like this ugly purse I picked for you, how about this equally ugly one in a slightly more offensive color?” They may think they know your taste, but they don’t, so they will continually pull all the items off the shelves until your protestations of “nahin” (no) finally sink in. But it’s all good, it gives the “shelf organizer” a job to do.

You can’t deviate from your job, the cashier is the only person in the restaurant capable of tallying the bill, the door opener can do nothing but open the door for you, and only one man in Welingkar is capable of fixing your internet when it repeatedly goes out and he screens calls (I think to avoid us). And don’t think about a special order at a restaurant. If it’s not on the menu, they can’t help you. Another interesting job here, certified ear cleaner. No lie. There’s a story there.

Most mornings on my walk to school, I have the pleasure of matching the timing of the garbage truck, which smells like nothing I have ever smelled before (worse than the paper mill in York). Ironically, there are four or five attendants to the garbage truck that collect the trash. Now picture this, India is covered in trash. There is no such thing as trash containers on the streets, so often waste is discarded by throwing it on the ground or into the nearest foliage. The trash attendants work diligently to sweep up the leaves to throw in the truck, but completely ignore the trash. Hmm, ineffective and pointless you ask? I think so. The leaves are bio-degradable, the soda bottle, not so much.

India could use some orange cones. Gaping holes in the sidewalk are leveled off with trash, so that no one steps in them, missing man hole covers are replaced with palm fronds, and wet concrete? No warning. I have now “left my impression” in four spots in Matunga. Oh, it’s alright. Not like I really was going to bring these sneakers home anyway.

Traffic here is insane! There must be an accident a second, as cars drive precariously close to one another and to pedestrians. No one seems to mind. BUT, whatever you do, don’t hit a cow! There will immediately be 10 police officers on the scene investigating the situation (in this case, fatal) of the cow… never mind the damaged bus filled with people that hit the cow. Is the cow okay?

There’s no Battle of the Sexes here (females clearly lose the war in India, just compare the boys hostel to the girls hostel!), but there is a Battle of the Wheels that can be witnessed at every traffic light. The four wheeled vehicles look down upon the three wheeled vehicles that look down upon the two wheeled vehicles. In order to compensate, the motorcycles sneak between traffic to get at the head of the line and start revving their engines. The first one to take off when the lights turns close enough to green (traffic signals are mere polite suggestions) wins… until the next light. Oh, and don’t forget to honk your horn at anything around you. About four honks per block should put you on par with the rest of the vehicles around you. And only honk at pedestrians, don’t be the loser that actually brakes for them when they are in front of you.

Worried about motorcycle helmet laws? How about motorcycle maximum capacity laws! There are oftentimes at least four people on a motorcycle (which is a bicycle built for two at the most), including small children. Helmets? No. Now, I have to wear my Helmet when I am biking on Port Herman Road… can you imagine not wearing a Helmet on I-95 while riding with your two small children and sari wearing wife riding side saddle on the back of your dinky motorcycle?

Horn Ok Please. A lot of the vehicles are elaborately painted with “Horn Ok Please,” which surprisingly means, it’s okay to honk at me. Why is this? Because there are very few side view mirrors here. This is because they are easily stolen, so replacement costs per month can become exceedingly high. So no need. Just assume there is a car on all possible sides of you. And if you are a creepy taxi driver, don’t use your rear view mirror either, just adjust it (obviously) to be fixated on your white female passengers in the backseat.

Autorickshaws, like elephants, have been banned from “Mumbai-proper,” which is southern Mumbai. Autorickshaws, in the suburbs, travel in flocks. I keep expecting them to do some fancy formation as 50+ go across the intersection at once. I think there is a market there… kind of like the Indian version of the Blue Angles.

Personal space is a lost art in India. This is probably because in a city of 18 million people, there is not enough space to go around. Therefore, if you want something, you have to learn to put aside your politeness and forge on full speed ahead. Especially when at the Welingkar Canteen, there is no room for polite line standing. The first few weeks I was polite, but after weeks of having hands with money appear on all sides of me demanding their order first; I finally have the routine down.

Napkins? Toilet paper? Bring Your Own. It’s ironic that they don’t offer up napkins here since often times the dishes can be eaten with your hands. The Welingkar canteen pretends they don’t have napkins until you point to the spot where they are stored. You know this, because you had to demand for one from yesterday and saw where they were hidden.
The girls and I measure the cleanliness of bathrooms here by “degrees”… as in the degrees you have to hover above the toilet as to not get any diseases or entirely gross yourself out. The hostel and Welingkar usually fall at about 10-15 degrees, but you know it’s bad when you have to use a 40 degree toilet!

Slums comprise 50% of the residential dwellings here. Ironically some of the “slum houses” are really well equipped. They may be perched precariously alongside a highway, but they are tiled in a lovely marble and have cable and air conditioning. There is literally not enough space to build. Once a squatter has set up a house, they must be paid to move, this is how the slums have been able to grow so rapidly and become so permanent. You may wonder why this law has not been changed. This is because the slum vote controls the legislation here (they outnumber “property holder” representation). That’s right, the slums can elect representatives to serve in parliament. Even if they are paid to relocate, and provided with an apartment… they will rent out the apartment for income, and move into another slum.

India is a very conservative society where I am blatantly stared at when I dare expose my knees. However, down the street from me is the Government-sponsored abortion clinic, and further south from me is the strip of highway where the cross-dressers (yes, Indian men wearing beautiful saris) stand with hopes to raise enough money for that sex change operation they had their eye on.

The train system here is fascinating and has been studied by foreign mathematicians. A train runs every 3 minutes at every station and thousands of trains run through the central line every day. The train system is at its capacity. Mathematically, no more trains can run. Trains are overcrowded and people often hang out the side of the car. So what to do? Well, make sure you are planted firmly towards the center of the car and pray you make it to your destination without being pushed out by accident at a stop.

Rainboots? In India? Unheard of! Let’s stare and draw pictures of them. True story.

Having Americans in your shop is good for business. Especially if they can be placed in a prime view window table. I have been to the Spaghetti Kitchen three times, and each time have been placed prominently in the front window and asked to sample new menu offerings by the Chef and to write about them. Good thing I watch the Food Network, I am sure they enjoy my well informed culinary critiques and this is why I keep getting offered samples.

The first phrase of English any Indian learns is “Yes Madam.” Rinse and repeat, excessively. In fact, call out “Yes Madam” repeatedly to any westerner walking by your shop, surely that will entice her to come in. Or, better yet, once she is in the shop and walks down the counter, take turns and each time she passes you say “Yes Madam,” cause chances are she didn’t hear the guy two feet from you that asked her half a second ago.

They have more festivals here than hours in the day! They all involve loud drums, flowers, water, and mysterious red powder. You would think the last thing you would want during monsoon season is to have buckets of water dropped on you and a hose aimed at you! Especially while forming a 9-story high human pyramid. Think again. Happy Birthday Krishna.

Classes here are a little different too. Often times we get tea delivered to us during our breaks, class participation is invited and then quickly ignored, grades are announced publicly and commented on, and they don’t think twice about making us sit in the same classroom for 40 hours a week. All of our textbooks are the “Low Cost Edition”, for “Sale Only on the Indian Subcontinent” and are basically photocopied versions of standard textbooks. Resources are very limited, there are a total of 4 “stacks” in the library, and the life of a dry erase marker is about one class period. Also, students here “pass out” of their degree (as in earn). But the first time I heard “Once Rajesh was able to pass out in his exam, he began working.”

I’m afraid it’s easy to develop quite the celebrity complex here in Mumbai. Everyone stares, and often takes pictures of you with their phone. Or, in a restaurant called DPs, we got our picture taken for the manager… perhaps we’ll be featured in the next marketing campaign. I’m surprised we don’t cause more motorcycle and taxi accidents with people leaning over to take a peak at us. I wonder what they do with the pictures of us on our phone…

You can get McDonald’s delivered here... yep, McDelivery. It’s bad enough you’re going to eat greasy food… but you can’t even get up off your couch to collect it?

Thanks to India… I can now get the word for “traditional Indian oven” in a crossword puzzle- Tandoor.

You never know how long it is going to take to get to your destination. The traffic in Mumbai is as unpredictable as the monsoon. But most taxi rides are entertaining enough, especially the ones equipped with “taxi bling” including flashing light up idols (all 70,000 taxis (with 169 square miles) are old Fiats that I wouldn’t test the reliability of by powering up superfluous dashboard decoration. When we travel on “flyovers” I will often lean over to my travel companion and whisper “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.’ Taxis can be really frustrating though, because a taxi driver will never admit he doesn’t know your destination or the way, instead, he’ll stop along the way and ask ten different people for directions. Just tell me you don’t know!!

Hindi is a fascinating, and challenging language. The pronunciation changes from person to person, and it’s hard to find consistent phonetic spellings of words (all words all also spelled phonetically in western characters). Interestingly enough the word for tomorrow, is the same as the word for yesterday. Perhaps therein lies some of the efficiency problems in Mumbai! Also… the dogs here don’t speak Hindi, in case you were wondering. Families will speak to their children in Hindi (Chalo) and their dogs in English (Come).

So, I have made it halfway through my time here in India! I have learned many of life lesson, and will cherish these memories and adventures (or misadventures) for the rest of my life. I have no doubt for the second half of my journey there are many more discoveries to be made and mishaps to occur. There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss my home terribly, but I know I will miss some of the chaos and vibrancy of India (although will certainly not miss the smells, tastes, or sounds) and do not regret my decision to take a step out of my comfort zone and challenge myself to adapt to a few months on a very foreign land. In fact, I'm fond (or tolerant) enough of India, I would like to give it some Christmas presents (or I guess Diwali foor Hindus) including: stop signs, trash cans, and a new infrastructure that doesn't mix water and sewage pipes!

Sunny skies.

Well the monsoon (knock on wood) seems to have finally cleared the air here, and what a treat to see sunshine! I haven't written in a while because I've been quite under the weather (maybe the changing of the seasons is to blame), but a lot has happened!

Friday we had two company visits. We visited Nerolac, an Asian Paint company, in the morning and the time there was quite interesting. I was impressed with the amount of innovation the company focuses on... because I don't think innovation when I think of paint. The visit was a little too lengthy for my taste, however, because it was very early in the morning and I had not gotten much sleep the night before. That made for a very antsy time for me during the almost three hour company visit. They had a really neat "Experience Room" though with software to test out what colors would look like painted on the walls of your house. Pretty neat.

After Nerolac, we headed to the other end of town, Churchgate, and stopped for lunch. We ate at a place called Jazz by the Bay which is well known for it's karaoke. I had a Greek salad which was quite tasty, and enjoyed the company I sat with at lunch. We then walked a few blocks to the Indian Merchants Chamber. Our visit there was very interesting, and a much better length. It's pretty amazing how many members they have compared to the York County Chamber of Commerce I used to work for! On our way out, we passed one of the biggest religious heads of the Hindu religion and it was sort of neat to see his grand entrance.

We then returned back to Matunga, and Stella and I headed to the gym. However, clearly my eating habits in Mumbai do no support a vigorous workout. Needless to say, I had not eaten enough and wound up burning more calories than I took in and was fell quite ill and almost blacked out. I am fine, made it back to the hostel and shortly after put myself to bed. I woke up Saturday very ill though, and spent the entire day in bed, which isn't a very nice feeling when you are on a rock hard mattress. I experienced a condensed twenty four hour bug, and was continuously interrupted by workers attempting to fix our windows, but pumped up on Vitamin C, took some Immunity Fizz and slept. I felt much better by evening, although decided to skip the gym for the evening (good decision on my part).

Yesterday, Sunday, was a really good day. We went down to Colaba to meet Zelon and Jaime from Temple. Zelon is the Director for Graduate Career Management Center, and Jaime is the Assistant Director for the IMBA Program. We met them in the lobby of their hotel and took them to a coffee shop for lunch. I ate, once again (a new trend I am enjoying) and then we hit Colaba Causeway to go shopping (of course!). I found some more great deals, so now I probably have more Christmas presents then people to give Christmas presents to! It was fun showing Jaime and Zelon around and got me even more excited for my Mom's visit (as if that were possible). I also met a shop keeper Rajesh who gave me a great deal because I told him I would tell all my friends to come and bring my mother back. And then a bunch of us went back to the shop to buy more, so I think I have a new friend in Mumbai.

After shopping, we headed over to Bandra to the St. Andrew's Theater to catch the play, "Double Deal." It was laughable... but wasn't a comedy! It was an overacted, melodramatic soap opera like performance and it really was entertaining and made us laugh out loud! I don't know whether my favorite part was the loud music/sound effects that were conflicting to the plot and unrealistic, the actors breaking the fourth wall and complaining about someone's cell phone coming off, or the female actress' main line a muttered "sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t" under her breath. No, I think perhaps the best part was the morale of the play. The female lead kept being beat up by this strange man she met in the marketplace and agreed to drive home. Of course she entered his house, and then every time she tried to leave and he attacked her... she decided to stay!!! A glutton for punishment surely. We all wanted to yell out "Just Leave" and the play would be over! It was kind of like the Bollywood Film we saw... enjoyable for all the wrong reasons, but enjoyable nonetheless.

When the play was finished, we headed to a restaurant called Olive (confession, I will miss some of the Italian restaurants here... they all have amazing atmospheres and usually half decent food... but it's the atmosphere I will miss) that has a Mediterranean/Italian Cuisine. I sat across from Zelon and Jaime and it was really comforting to talk to them and touch base with Temple to get all of our questions answered (it looks like there's a 99.9% chance that I can make the big family holiday next summer, so a big sigh of relief for that) and it was exciting to hear about the next chapter. Zelon was also great to talk to about my future career plans, etc. The food was quite good as well, although, of course, didn't agree with my stomach.

We were at dinner for a long time! In fact, we didn't get back to the hostel until 1 am, which was quite unfortunate. The only nice part was that I was able to catch up with a lot of people from home, since Stella was staying up doing work anyway. We finally finished our preparations for our meetings with Jaime today and turned the lights off around 3 am. I woke up on the wrong foot as I watched a cockroach crawl across the floor...not a nice way to wake up. We had class at 9, so we were all dragging tail, especially because our 9 am class was IT Perspectives... a class for which the purpose we cannot derive and who's content is more than boring. I would have skipped it because I was so tired, but I plan on doing that next week when I am playing Daughter Hostess. This class is really quite pointless, and we have one class member that insists on asking questions simple to have his voice heard, and who's questions are perhaps even more irrelevant than the course itself!

We had a break before a meeting with Jaime and Zelon, so I just sat around and talked with some of my classmates, and put my head down for a while because once again I did not feel well. Me not feeling well simply progressed through the afternoon, and I wound up leaving the session early because I felt ill. I'm hoping to feel better by this morning, as I came back and rested and pumped myself with fluids. Zelon and Jaime came by to check out our hostels, they are hoping to improve the living situation for next year (or at least create some equality between the guy's and girl's living situations). I then rested some more, before heading to the Sheraton for dinner with everyone.

Tomorrow we have class at 10:30 and then I hope to feel well enough to go the gym before my one-on-one meeting with Zelon to discuss my resume. The countdown 'til Mom's arrival is optimistically small and I am very much looking forward to my time with her. In the meanwhile, I just need to regain my health and get through the week. One of the 15 of our members here just dropped the program last night, which came as a shock to us all. We are halfway through, so I really feel to leave now is a waste of time and money, considering the first half of our coursework was not for credit! But it was his decision, and it was probably for the best.

So... then there were 14.

The monsoon is over, what happened to the water?

I have now been water-less in India for two days. We are without running water in the hostel... and talk about an inconvenience. I am SO frustrated with the inability to reach any progress. It seems as though our living conditions are only deteriorating, when they should be improving (or we should be adapting).

I did go to my new gym today, and that was great. The only catch was arriving back to the hostel to turn the shower on and have nothing come out! We then proceeded to lose electricity. Really, I'm not sure I can handle much fun.

We had our HR class today. It started almost an hour late, but luckily still ended on time. The class was really interesting, although with the tension within the group dynamic... it has the potential to be cause for more tension. The professor is really interesting though, and we had a very interactive class with lots of activities for "self awareness." Self-awareness always makes me a little uncomfortable, but I suppose will help me in the end.

However, today my frustration level is at its peak. Our class schedule is continually changed at the last minute, administration never follows through on their promises to delivery material, answers, or resolution to our many problems, and finally, of course, not having reliable water or power. They said the problem with the water is there are too many girls living at the hostel... ummm. Let's think about that for a moment.... WHAT!?

Luckily Mom comes in a week... that week can't come and go quick enough. Then I think I'll freeze time and hold Mom captive in Mumbai.

Phoenix Mills High Street... and Ugly Betty Rajasthan Pizza Party

I slept in this morning, since we didn't have class! When I woke up, Carey and I headed over to Phoenix Mills High Street to go to Big Bazaar. But first, we ate at McDonald's. Yes, McDonald's. McDonald's is India is pretty unique, in that they are the only chain in the world to have home delivery and Veggie McNuggets and McCurry. But home delivery? That's right, you can call up McD's and have them bring you your McCurry and fries right to your door!

McDonald's was surprisingly good. The fries tasted like home and were comforting (ironic, I know) and most importantly they had real ketchup (most ketchup in India is thin and spicy or thin and sweet... both combinations are equally unappealing). After McD's we went into Big Bazaar and I got a new tooth brush (I don't want to even think about how gross my tooth brush gets here) and some fruit juices (yay!). On our way back out to get a taxi, we stopped into Cotton Company clothes stores and I actually bought a new outfit, which looks good and makes me happy since my other clothes are looking big and worn out (since they haven't been properly washed/cared for since August... hence why I have a suitcase of unpacked clothes... that are probably going moldy... like poor Carey's clothes).

After my trip out, I came back and continued to do career research (I know I said that a lot, but today I actually made progress and made a chart... I know, Type A) and almost sort of napped a little.

We then had our pizza party tonight! The two French girls living in the hostel joined Rachel, Carey, Stella and I for Ugly Betty and they shared their recent travels with us to help us plan our own Diwali travels (we plan to go up to Rajasthan from November 3rd-11th). The French girls were really nice, but I feel bad for them as they have had a horrible time at the hostel (worse than us) because they have gotten more than $100 stolen from their locked room, and then just recently an MP3 player. It's a shame we have to lock our stuff away in suitcases while we're gone, when there is a padlock on our door than only we and the guard have a key too (which kind of leaves the guard looking pretty guilty). I feel so bad for them though, because that's not a very welcoming experience. Plus their program is administratively organized about as well as ours is (if you recall, on the first day we were supposed to have class, I walked to school in a foot of water only to find that classes had been canceled for five days and we were on our own to figure out what to do).

But we had fun watching Ugly Betty and then figuring out the logistics of our Rajasthan trip. Looks like to save money we're going to take a 20-hour train ride up to Jaipur and start our travels there. I want to do a camel safari, but looks like that may not happen. Such is life.

We do not have running water in the hostel tonight and the internet keeps coming in and out. It's annoying not having running water, because that means the water purifier is also not working, and there's no shower/functioning toilet. Very frustrating... and I'm now regretting that coke I had with pizza (not only because I never drink caffeine... but also because I don't want to sleep with my legs crossed tonight!)... and am pretty much regretting all my food choices today, or at least my stomach is. It seems whenever any of us try to eat American fastfood here, it doesn't go well. But then again, I never like it in the States either... maybe that should serve as a sign for me that grease and I are not destined to live in harmony.

And the daily grind begins.

Classes began yesterday. We had IT Perspectives from 9-12 and then Strategic Management from 2-6. Talk about a long day. I was incredibly antsy, as I had forgotten all about those forsaken chairs and my attention span capabilities had been severely diminished with my lounging around.

Today I had International Finance from 10-1 (even though it's Gandhi's birthday, and no one else had to go to class), but I just found out I have no class tomorrow, so yay for that! This afternoon we had a guest lecturer from the Maharastha Development Organization who discussed the Mumbai Urban Transportation Project. Interesting concept, don't think it will ever get accomplished, the infrastructure in Mumbai is a mess! They will have to relocate 20,000 households that currently live on train tracks, so that they can add more train lines since they cannot increase the frequency of trains (it is already maxed out at a train every 2 or 3 minutes). But pretty interesting to think about where Mumbai will be in 5 years.

So far there isn't a lot of work for class, so in the meanwhile I've been working on my cover letters/resume and day dreaming about Mom's trip to temporarily rescue me in 10 days!

Not much else is new. It sort of feels like we never stopped going to class. The only change this semester is the classes are a bit more interesting and some of us changed our seats around at a fruitless attempt for some more variety in our life.

I did indulge and download from iTunes the season premiere of CSI and Grey's Anatomy, so I am savoring the thought and milking the anticipation. I will most likely crack down and watch Grey's tonight. Tomorrow night we're having an Ugly Betty Pizza Rajasthan Party to plan out our Diwali plans for the first ten days of November. It will be Rachel, Carey, Stella and I traveling, but we have also invited two french girls to our party. They just got back from a month of traveling India and are taking a semester at Welingkar. They've had a horrible time in the hostel so far, so we feel bad for them and thought a little pizza might do the trick. Rachel wants this to be a costume party as well, an Ugly Betty Costume party, but I doubt we'll get our act together. There have already been discussions of Halloween plans... hmm, weird.