Broken Things

Normal things can become difficult in a matter of seconds. For instance, a taxi ride back to your hotel can become a walk on an Indian freeway when your "tack-tack" breaks down. Such was the case today. I decided to go back into downtown Mumbai so I grabbed a tack-tack to the train station and hopped on the S train. The train was much busier than yesterday and as a result I found myself hanging out of the train doorway again, only this time I didn't have the option of coming back in. The train car was bursting with people and I was there hanging out of the doorway holding on with a kung-fu grip to the side of the train. Eventually we passed enough stops to thin the herd out a little and I was back to a comfortable hang rather than an "Oh shit!" hang out of the door.

Once in Mumbai I decided to do some shopping. I forgot my swimmy trunks in South Africa so I decided to make use of the strong dollar and find a bargain. I really can't get over how inexpensive things are here. I picked up a shirt, two pairs of shorts, and a pair of swimmy trunks all for about $18. All of the stuff was brand new and name brand, in fact the shorts I bought still had the U.S. price tag on them and they retail state side for $89.99. Satisfied with a successful bargain hunt I treated myself to a cup of Darjeeling tea.

I sipped my tea at a trendy little coffee shop on a busy street corner. Mumbai is an interesting city to observe. As the city hustles about it seems as if it could be New York or London, but then a guy on a bicycle that is loaded ten feet high with boxes passes by or a cow walks through the street. The little things that are unique to India always make me chuckle to myself.

I finished my tea and headed back to the rail station hoping that I wouldn't have as stressful a train ride back. No dice, it was just as packed, I had a little better position, though. I feel like I am getting better at the whole jockeying for position thing and I earned the respect from the locals by standing firm. Once of the train I flagged down a tack-tack and I was on my way. It is only about 4 miles from the rail station to my hotel, but my tack-tack didn't eat it's Wheaties and shut down. The driver looked at me and said, "broken," in his best English. My impulse got the best of me as I asked, "really?" as if that would magically fix the little tack-tack. No dice. So, there, literally in the middle of the highway, I helped push the busted tack-tack off the road, and began my walk back. I just laughed to myself. I felt a little bad for the guy, but as I walked back I passed about three other broken tack-tacks so I just figured that it was a normal occurrence and the guy could fix it.

My walk back was through a slum, which was a bit eye-opening. I don't really know what to say other than I just can't believe that places like this exist. It is unfortunate. I don't even know what to say, the conditions are absolutely horrifying. As I got to my hotel I have never felt so fortunate to have a bed. I really don't know what to say.

Just a quick aside, I started writing this entry at the Mumbai airport and I had finished but wasn't able to upload it and on the way to my hotel from the Delhi airport guess what happened? My taxi got a flat tire. I must be good luck. This time I could lend a hand, so the cab driver and I changed the flat. This one was pretty scary, though, because it was midnight and we were on a really busy road. Needless to say we fixed it and were back on the road. Maybe I should just walk from now on...

Mumbai and the Ganesha Festival

My day started like most others. Actually, I can't really say that because everything that I have done in India has been just a little different. I started my day with a shower, but the showers here are not like showers I am used to. The shower head in the bathroom seems to have been an afterthought as it is haphazardly just put into the wall. It is about normal height for a shower head, but it is a foot right of the toilet and there is no curtain or shower basin, so you just shower and the get the floor all wet. I swear it feels like I'm doing something wrong because I just get water all over the place in that 8 square foot little bathroom.

Regardless, I showered and headed out into the world. I was excited because I would have to ride the train into Mumbai today. My hotel is about a 40 minute train ride outside of the city center so I got a tuck-tuck (that is the name for those little three wheel half motor-bike, half Volkswagen things. They got their name because that's how they sound, "tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck"...you have to say it with an Indian accent though, seriously that's how they sound) and I headed to the rail station. Once there I got into line, which was quite a long line, but moved rather efficiently. I purchased my first class ticket, which meant that I got a padded seat instead of a prison-style stainless steel one, and I headed to platform 2.

Once the train came I was already smiling. People are hanging outside, running on and off before the train even stops, it is organized chaos at it's best. I really wanted the full experience so I waited for the train to get going before I jogged and jumped on. Once on I had to make my way to the open door and hang out. It is an awesome feeling holding onto the train and letting your body hang out. I thought people just liked doing it but as the train started getting more full it got real hot and muggy and I realized that hanging outside with the cool breeze was the best spot on the coach.

I got off the train in downtown Mumbai and started to do my normal wandering. Mumbai is definitely more of a European/industrialized city than Delhi. Mumbai is India's largest city and the second largest in the world, and it definitely lives up to those stats. At any time in any nook and cranny there is a flood of people. The city itself looks right out of the Jungle Ride at Disneyland. Besides the smattering of modern buildings, most of Mumbai is buildings that the British built while India was still a colony. The buildings are all uniquely Mumbai, and they look as if at any moment the safari guy from Jumanji is going to come out riding an elephant.

I didn't have a plan for the day so I just walked around and tried to get into something. As luck would have it, I got into a mess. At around 5 o'clock I started to make my way back to the train station to catch my train home. Once at the train station I started hearing all kinds of drums, hollering, and then fireworks. I had a few minutes so I walked over to see what the commotion was about. There was a parade, people dancing in the streets, throwing this colored powder on everyone, guys on other guys shoulders playing drums, it was a huge party. There was another train later so I took out my camera and started to get closer to get some pictures. I made my way to the side of the street and started snapping away and as I was taking pictures I noticed that the people dancing and parading were hamming it up for my camera. I looked around and quickly realized that I was the only one who looked like me around. All of the paraders seemed to like that I was taking pictures so I kept snapping and wouldn't you know it after a minute I was surrounded.

All of the people dancing in the street were begging me to take their picture, tugging at me to dance, and introducing themselves and inviting me into the parade. Me being the opportunist that I am quickly jumped in the mix. Within seconds I was dancing with dozens of people in the middle of the street, throwing magenta colored powder at others as they threw it at me, and eating cake. I went from observer to participant in seconds flat. I still wanted to document this, so I was there trying to snap pictures, dance, introduce myself to the scores of children coming up to me asking me my name and where I was from, shaking hands, and being pulled in ten different directions as every kid there had something to show me. One of the kids grabbed my hand and whisked me away to a little room that housed a statue of Ganesha. That was when it hit me that this must be something having to do with Ganesha.

A few of the guys there tried to describe what the party was for, but they did not know English and my Hindi, even with all the practice I had yesterday, is non-existent at best. There are somethings that transcend language, however, so we all danced, clapped high fives, threw colored powder, and ate the cake of Ganesha. I felt like a celebrity with all of the people asking me where I was from and wanting me to take their picture. It was an unbelievable experience. As I walked back to my hotel covered in magenta powder, fireworks blasting in the distance, I just smiled and laughed to myself. I had seen an Indian color festival before on TV and I always thought they looked fun, but I had no idea they were like this. People on top of cars stopping traffic just to dance in the middle of the street, playing drums while the people in their cars let up on their incessant horn honking for a moment and enjoyed the party. Some of them even left

there cars in the middle of the street and started to dance as well.

When I came back to the hotel the owner, who is a really nice guy and always there, looked at me, covered in magenta powder, and his eyes got as big as saucers. "Oh my, goodness!" He rang out, in his perfect Indian accent. "Get a camera," he said to the other guy working there. "We need a picture. Oh my god man, what did you do?" He asked me. I told him the story and he filled me in on the 10 day Ganesha festival that is going on, then he laughed at the magenta mess I was in. He told me to get cleaned and he would make me some rice, he really is a nice guy.

I still can't believe that one moment I was taking some pictures and the next I was hanging from a truck throwing powder, dancing with kids, and eating cake. It really makes no sense to me. I came to India really on a whim, with no expectations and absolutely no plans, other than to see the Taj Mahal, and I have been overwhelmed. This is a day that I will not forget, I will just look back on it and smile.

New Delhi Tour

I had to catch an 8 o'clock flight tonight so I decided to take a city highlights tour of New Delhi. I found a quaint little tourist information location and walked in. Many of the tourist information offices serve double and triple duty, such as a hotel, water filter sales, restaurant, the list goes on and on. I found one that was also a hotel. For some reason that was convincing to me that they were reputable. Most tourist agencies also have a "Government Approved" sign, which this one did, so in I went. I was greeted by five people and they were joined by three more that popped up out of nowhere. They all smiled and ushered me to have a seat and as all of them started talking to me at once. I spoke up, a little startled at the fact that I walked into an ambush of tour salesmen, and said that I was looking for a map of Delhi. This was the fourth tourist place that I had been into asking for a map and I told myself that if I had the same result, which was a blank stare then the guy taking out a map of all of India in Hindi the size of a cocktail napkin, then I would just bite the bullet and take a tour instead of trying to do it on my own. I got the same result, except the 50 some odd guys helping me decided to get a world map. I gave in and asked if I could book a city tour with them and they obliged me and shuffled me towards the best English speaker of the clan.

I asked him if I could book a tour of Delhi and he smiled and said, "we have a tour leaving in 20 minutes if you would like." I agreed and handed over my 350 rupees. I could have paid 200 rupees for the non air-conditioned bus, but seeing as the extra 150 rupees comes out to roughly $3, I decided to treat myself. As the bus pulled up I quickly realized that it was not air-conditioned. This was evidenced by the people hanging out the window sweating profusely. I was shuffled onto the bus by the 8 tourist booth workers, all of whom were on their cell phones and waving at me, assuring me everything would be ok. I went with it, hopped on the bus and away I went. On the bus there were about 6 workers, each one of them hopping on and off the bus as it was still moving, busy shuffling about and talking on their cell phones. This is wh

ile the bus is making a u-turn. At this point I still had no idea what was going on or where we w

ere going, or why it took 6 people, all on their cell phones, to get a tour going. The bus made it's u-turn, stopped, and the driver turned and pointed to me and pointed to the door. I grabbed my things and went out the door. Two cell phone using guys greeted me, asked me for my ticket, which I produced, then they nodded and walked away. There I was, no ticket, no tour, no idea of what the hell just transpired in the last ten minutes.

Then, about thirty seconds later one of the cell phone using guys appears, hanging out of a moving bus. He jumps off as the bus comes to a screeching halt in front of me. "Ok, we go now." Was all I got as I was ushered onto the new bus, which was air-conditioned. Everything was starting to come together. A few hiccups, but I was right where I wanted to be, on a city tour. The bus chugged away and we were off. As we pulled up to our first sight, which was the Indian Parliament, the tour guide started to talk. I couldn't understand him at first, which I was thinking had something to do with his accent, but then it hit me as I looked around the bus; I was the only non-Indian person in there, and the tour was all in Hindi. It never occurred to me to make sure the tour was in English. I was seriously the only non-Indian resident on the bus. At some of the attractions we went to they have a line for India residents and a line for foreigners (which is usually triple the price for residents) and each time I was the only one from my bus in

the foreigner line. I made the best of it, though. I laughed when everyone laughed, nodded when everyone nodded, hell, by the end of it I was paying more attention to the tour guide than everyone else, and I couldn't understand one damn word.

Luckily for me most of the things on the tour had signs with English subtitles or were so self-explanatory that I didn't need a tour guide. It was a small consolation, though. I wish I spoke the language. The tour guide said something that must have been really funny because everyone was laughing real hard and as they walked off the bus they were repeating it and laughing some more. I laughed, but I didn't know what the hell I was laughing at. If nothing else I became an expert at pantomiming in Hindi today.

And Now for Something Completely Different!

As I arrived at Gandhi International airport I quickly realized that I was in uncharted territory. The inside of the airport is not that different from any other, save for the heat sensing camera that weeds out those who might have the H1N1 virus, but by the first step outside I realized I was in a completely foreign world. I found a taxi cab and after much misunderstanding explained to the driver where I would like to go. I put my things in the back of his 1950s Buick looking car and we were off. I had heard that driving in India was a great adventure, but it still doesn’t prepare you. Honking the horn is not something you do to warn someone or even to really signal anything, it just seems like something to do in Delhi. The driver laid on the horn every chance he could. It still didn’t stop him from hitting three separate vehicles as well as just pushing one out of the way. Seriously, there are these three wheeled half-motorcycle half VW bug looking cars all over. They are taxis, but that have a top speed of about 18 miles per hour and the sketchiest handling abilities I’ve ever seen. My cab driver, the Maverick that he is, came upon one that had broken down going over a speed bump so what does he do? If you answered slowed down a hair, touched bumpers, and pushed the guy out of the way, you are correct! In America, or most other places for that matter, this would have involved pulling over and exchanging insurance and all that, but the guy we pushed didn’t even give us a dirty look, just business as usual.

After nearly soiling myself several times thanks to my insane cab driver, I eventually got to my hotel around 4A.M. I was dead tired seeing as I hardly slept on my flight or on my 12 hour layover in Johannesburg, so I checked in and fell fast asleep. After my much needed 13 hours of sleep I ventured out into New Delhi.

I have to say that nothing could have prepared me for this city. There are hundreds of people asleep on the street, on hoods of cars, in piles of trash, the squalor is like nothing I have seen before. New Delhi is a full five sense experience. The smell is the first thing that gets you. A five minute walk down the street will treat you to the smell of corn cooking, human defecation, incense, dust, car exhaust, animals, and the ever pungent aroma of urine. It truly is impossible to quantify the array of scents because they come at you like pictures in a slideshow one after another, each one distinct and distinguishable. The smell matches up with the sights as there are street vendor after street vendor selling food from carts. I haven’t tried any street vendor food yet and I’m not sure if I will seeing as all the people I saw getting food from them looked like they were not in the best health. It may or may not be from the food vendors offerings, but I hedged my bets and steered clear.

The smell of urine is quite prevalent throughout the region I walked around and I found out why. They have urinals on the side of the road and not outhouses or bathrooms, the urinals are these little tile phone booth looking things. Imagine a phone booth without a door, just a three wall stall, with the one that you face having a five inch trench to pee in. These are all over, which, I’m guessing, is the culprit for the urine aroma. The best part is that the folks using them are carrying on while doing their business. I saw a guy eating a corn on the cob, another on the phone, and my favorite was this guy who was talking to his friend who was standing next to him. So much for keeping the code of silence in the restroom. I guess that isn’t that weird though, seeing as hundreds of people are walking by anyway.
Besides the sights and smells the next thing, and possibly the one that made me laugh the most, is traffic. The taxi ride in should have been a hint that driving is at one’s own risk here. The streets are occupied by city buses, cars, horse and cow drawn carriages, bicycles, those moped/VW bug looking things, and pedestrians all cramming into two lanes. For the most part it is a video game like environment where everyone is weaving in and out, but that works when you have a majority of people staying in line and being orderly. When everyone is jockeying to move up feet at a time you just have mass chaos with ridiculous amounts of horn honking. Driving is an art here, especially when you are driving a cow drawn carriage full of car parts. I witnessed a man driving a cow cross two lanes of traffic enduring countless horn honks only to get to the wrong side of the road and go into oncoming traffic, encountering even more horn honking. All the while he was on his cell phone. You just can’t make this stuff up people. Going into oncoming traffic seems to be the best way to get around the traffic that is going the right way. It is an interesting strategy that, even being from Los Angeles, I have not seen before. I don’t know if I will be bringing that tactic back with me to the States, but I’ll think about it. I guess I’ll have to observe a little more, maybe I’ll take some notes. In the mean time I will just watch my back while I dodge city buses and scooters. The scooters are the biggest challenge because they drive on the sidewalk when they feel so inclined, which is most of the time. I must say that the motorists and cow/horse pilots here are quite adept at not getting into serious accidents. I hope that is the case at least…

Pictures, Finally

I have a lot of time to kill right now. I am currently serving a 12 hour layover sentence in O.R. Tambo International Airport. I am bundled up on a cozy steel bench in front of a closed Vodafone kiosk. Sometimes traveling ain't all glitz and glamour and this is the ugly side of shark diving, mountain climbing, and road tripping. The worst part about this layover is that it is from 11p.m. to 11a.m., which means that I get to hang out with absolutely no one. There are a few travelers spread out here and there but they have all claimed their own steel bench and fallen asleep, which is amazing to me seeing as it is about -10 degrees in this dam building.

I spent my last day in Cape Town hiking up Lion's Head, doing laundry, and saying goodbye to the Hyundai Atos. If I can dispense some advice to those traveling to Cape Town it would be this; when renting a car, and do rent a car, make sure to not rent a Hyundai Atos. We beat the hell out of that car. There are many beautiful lookouts and detours off of the main highway that are nothing close to what that car is designed for. Matt was my co-pilot and every time we saw a turnoff or sign that pointed to anything that looked remotely interesting we would take it. Most of the time that meant going up an embankment, rutted dirt road, or just making our own way on some overgrown dirt path. Most conversations about if we should go sounded like, "you think we can make this?" "Nope." There was never any doubt in our voice, just asking the question because it should have been asked, more like a task than a serious hesitation or mistrust of Atos' ability. In a car with a 1 liter engine and tires that can hardly handle freeway speeds the Atos definitely went above and beyond it's duty. I can only imagine what people would think when they saw our little yellow car peel off the road to go bouncing down some dirt alley.

Cape Town was an amazing contrast to the previous countries I have been to on this trip. All of South Africa that I saw was just unbelievably rich with natural beauty and unique wildlife, but the cities displayed a more ugly reality. The disparity between rich and poor is all too prevalent as townships of densely packed one bed, three family shacks made of tin and spare parts butt up against gated communities housing multi-room mansions. It is a humbling dichotomy of rich and poor that is impossible not to notice.

Well, on a lighter note, I think it is time for me to curl up a nice piece of steel and catch a few airport z's. I scored a pretty sweet spot. I am new to sleeping on benches so I am not sure of the protocol here. I figured that I won't be sleeping in my underwear tonight, and my morning cup of tea and newspaper in my robe is probably ruled out as well. There is a 5 star hotel right next to the terminal and I went in and talked to the guy at the front desk for fifteen minutes trying to convince him that he should give me a free room but he wouldn't bite. I even told him that I would sleep on the floor so they wouldn't have to make the bed, still nothing, though. Ah well, benches can be cozy, especially freezing cold, polished aluminum, aaaa, for Christ's sake this is gonna be the shittiest sleep ever...

Road Trip South Afica

I have mentioned before how great hostels are for traveling and I would just like to reiterate how handy they are. While staying here in Cape Town I have been hanging out with Barret, who is from central Canada, Megan, who is from Texas, and Matt, who is also from Texas. We all really hit it off together. Barret is our token Canadian who we keep around so that we can say we are an international crowd. Actually he is here just vacationing since he spent the last week climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, the tallest peak in Africa. I was impressed, who knew a Canadian could do that? Anyway, we all decided on road tripping over to the Garden Route, which is a beautiful drive along the South African coastline. I knew my little Hyundai Atos would be up to it.

Our plan was to drive from Cape Town down to Cape Point then east to Mossel Bay, which is the unofficial start of the Garden Route. Plans are mere outlines, however, and this one was no different. The day started as the forecast predicted; torrential, down pouring rain. Just a few meters out from the hostel I thought that the little Atos, now bogged down with four people and luggage, would not make it. The rain was unbelievable. Although none of us were ecstatic about the horrendous conditions for our picturesque drive, but we made do. We made our way to Cape Point, which is the most south-western tip of Africa. We all thought this was a pretty half-assed title for a place, so we decided to get to the southern most tip on our road trip, none of this south-western junk. We still took our picture in front of the Cape Point sign, in fact that was a bit of a chore. It was pouring rain so we didn't want to set the camera on a timer outside so we asked a guy who just happened to be there in his car to take the picture from inside of his car. It worked out, sort of, but we all got soaked standing there yelling at this guy in his car who is 20 feet away trying to talk him through using my camera for 5 minutes before he finally clicked the right button. It was nice of him to help but when you are taking a picture of four people standing in crazy rain, you put a little hustle into it.

After our drive through the point we started to make our way over to Mossel Bay. According to a lady we asked Mossel bay is a 3 hour drive from Cape Town, we were on hour 6 and had covered a quarter of the distance. Of course we did have about a hundred pictures, a great lunch, and about ten cookies from random eateries on the way to show for it. We accepted the fact that we are terribly inefficient road trippers, but none of us cared. Eventually we made our way to the main highway and I played dad as everyone promptly fell into their post-lunch food comas.

The South African landscape is one of the most diverse that I have ever seen. We started on the coast where towering bluffs overlook crystal blue water crashing against the beach and within an hour we were entrenched in a forest of tall tree that practically covered the entire sky from our view. It was like traveling through a fairy tale world of overgrown nature. Everything is bigger in Africa, it is unadulterated nature.

Eventually we arrived at Cape Agulhas, which is the southern most tip of Africa. It took us 11 hours and 400 miles to get to a place that is 3 hours and roughly 260 miles away. Mossel Bay was still another 150 miles from Cape Agulhas so we all convinced ourselves that there was nothing to see there and found housing in Cape Agulhas. This actually ended up being great as we ate at a local restaurant and talking with the owner who was more than happy to chat. He was a nice guy. He seemed like he had no place else to go, but he was an unbelievably nice guy and we talked with him about the town and his restaurant. Cape Agulhas is a sleepy little beach town. It was very different from Cape Town and a great contrast.

After the night we ended up taking a much more efficient route home that took us 350 miles and 6 hours. We couldn't help but take the scenic route. Luckily the weather cooperated better and we were given some spectacular views of the South African coast. All in all it was an unbelievable trip and, to me, one of the most unbelievable things was that three days ago I did not even know any of these folks and today I was toting them all over South Africa in a bright yellow Hyundai Atos. It really is crazy how life works sometimes.

The Sound of Shark Diving

"Brrraaaawwwwwww!" That's what shark diving in Cape Town sounded like for me as I played "Which Part of Breakfast was That?" over the side of the dive boat. I was sea sick. Fortunately, though, I was still able to get in the cage and see a Great White Shark up close and personal in it's natural habitat. That was before I hurled. The best time to see sharks is just a couple hours after dawn so we headed up to Hermanus, which is about two hours north of Cape Town, to see ourselves some big fish. Hermanus is also the most popular whale watching point in the Western Cape as well, so I was also hoping to see some big mammals, although I already had seen some in Kansas, Hey-OOO! Ok, sorry, I am a bit under the weather as I have technically eaten, but not digested anything all day.

The sea was angry today my friends, and it took it's anger out on the S.S. Shark Hunter, that was our boat. Our boat was a soldier and took all the surf in stride, but there were a few times I was really glad I was wearing a life preserver. I have never been sea sick before, but then again, I have never been in waters that treacherous. In fact, I was less afraid of the sharks and more afraid of the ship capsizing. Eventually we made the 4 or 5 mile trek over to shark alley. This is a narrow strip of ocean that runs between two very small islands. One island is a bird sanctuary and the other is a seal colony, which in shark terms means: lunch. This is the most densely populated area of Great White Sharks on the planet, which makes it a great place to dump tourists off in a steel cage to get a glimpse of these predators of the sea.

We saw six or seven different Great Whites, the smallest being about 10 feet long. They are unbelievable to watch. When you are in the cage the guides throw some bait in the water and guide the sharks toward you. While we were in the cage the bait was 5 feet in front of us or so and a shark came at blazing speed right up from underneath us and snatched the dead fish off the rope as it flew out of the water. It was unbelievable. The guides said that we were lucky to see that.

Cape Town has been an adventure of a different style. While I have been here I have hiked up Table Mountain, swam with sharks, and driven along one of the most beautiful and unique coastlines on the planet. Africa's south west peninsula offers so much natural beauty that it is almost overwhelming. I hiked up Table Mountain with four other folks that I met. After you make the two hour, 3000 foot vertical ascent you rewarded with an view from the top of Cape Town. Table Mountain gives you a spectacular panorama since it is not a mountain with a proper peak, it is really more of a plateau. Once atop you can see 360 degrees of the Cape, as well as where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet. When we all got to the top we caught our breaths and took in the sights. One of the things we were most astonished by was the smattering of girls we saw wearing strappy flip flops and dresses. All of the folks I was with were in shape twenty somethings with proper hiking boots or running shoes and we had a helluva time. I was dumbfounded as to how these girls made it up, but they were the only ones who looked like they were prepared for a photo shoot in their pictures, so cheers to them. Next time I am going to hike a mountain in a tuxedo, just to see if I can do it. Whatever I do next, I'm hoping I just don't puke anymore, it is not fun.