Mumbai

Sasha:

Today is a bit of a crunchy day. And by crunchy, I mean that we are feeling cracked-out and tired, weary of the traffic and the constant noise around us. Weary of the people, and of the guardedness that comes with being a tourist. And so I sip my latte with my headphones on, and take comfort in the company of my own thoughts. It isn't a bad way to take a vacation from our vacation.

I'm writing in a cafe in Mumbai. As in a proper cafe that serves 10 different varieties of coffee beans, and offers thick foamy lattes with hearts drawn in esspresso circles. For some reason, in this part of the trip, I am craving coffee. Or maybe I am just craving a little bit of something western. As it turns out, the 25 other people in the cafe (all Indian) are appreciating it too.

Mumbai is a modern city, filled with nightclubs, high rise buildings, train stations that have more to do with European Cathedrals than with any Asian tradition. The soundtrack to the city is a constant symphony of cars, scooters, and buses buzzing around and honking at one another. In a city of 16 million, that is a lot of motor vehicles. The young men walk down the street with their arms around one another, and holding hands, while couples walk a more modest distance from one another. In peak hours, the commuter trains in and out of Bombay will squeeze 16 people per square meter in their cars, creating a “super dense crush.” While we stand on the sidewalk, looking at our guidebook map, strangers will appear over our shoulders eager to help. This has mixed results since only the more educated speak English, and our ability to communicate in either Marathi (the language of Mumbai) or Hindi (the official language of India) is minimal. Personal space and privacy aren't a high priority in Indian culture. A family of four can make a motor scooter look downright roomy. There is less space allotted to each person here, both because the people are typically smaller, thinner, and shorter than the average American, and because they don't need the buffer zone that we do. “The Indian people have a strong need for touch,” we were told by our couchsurfing host, Ashish. I can't say that they eager look forward to being canned sardines on a train car, but they relax into physical contact in a way that we don't. We took a bus from Panjim to Palolem Beach, and they bus seats were a challenge for Ra and I to fit into. For a little while, an Indian man sat next to me, and I strove to keep and elbows width of room between him and I.

One of the things that I enjoy about Mumbai is that it so much more than a tourist destination. It is a world class city, buzzing with people in their everyday lives- dealing with design, finance, government, and transportation. We ventured into the tourist districts, and our blinders come up, guarding us from the vendors and scams. In Palolem, it was inescapable (which is why we escaped to Agonda Beach). In Mumbai, all we have to do is cross the street and I can look up, make eye-contact and smile with out being accosted with dolphin rides, bangles or tshirts.. I've read about how men here would interpret the smallest encouragement as a come-on, so I reserve my smiles for women. Having spent so much time in the past month and a half being on the defensive against the press of shop keepers and taxi drivers, I take so much pleasure in making a momentary connection, and opening up for 4 seconds at a time. Almost all of the women return my smile. In fact, it sometimes goes farther than that. With a little encouragement, they approach us and ask to take a photo with us. Usually we say yes, although this can get out of hand by the time the 5^th or 6^th person in a row asks. We've decided to take these requests as a compliment. Part of me wonders how different the two experiences are- in one we walk through India as a set of dollar signs, and in the other we are a novelty- a pair of white faces. In both cases, we are objectified. However, I'd much rather offer a smile, than the rupees in my wallet. I'd rather trade a hand shake for a handshake, than haggle over the price of a cheap trinket. The question we ask ourselves is how do we interact as individuals here, and not as anonymous objects.

We have found that it is easier to make a connection with other tourists than it is with locals. Part of the reason we liked Agonda Beach in Goa so much is because of the other travelers we met. It was so much easier to meet people when we aren't being hassled every moment. The defensive blinders come off, and suddenly we are being invited to pull up a chair at our regular cafe (we had two of them in Agonda, Arabian Nights and Lily Moon.) Before we knew it, we started seeing the same people every day. Annie and Cambell from Scottland (by way of Lisbon) and John from Manchester (by way of Sri Lanka) Brandon from San Diego, Carol, Moon, and Lily who ran our favorite restaurant, and Bobby from Albuquerque (who surprised us by being 21 years old, on his third trip to India, who had a wisdom and curiosity beyond his years). In 6 days we had built up a nice little community that we were sad to leave. 5-6 days seems like the minimum time it takes to get a regular routine, and to create a circle of expat friends. On our last evening, Cambell (who is a professional musician) got out his guitar and we had a sing-along at the Lily Moon cafe that lasted 6 hours.

Couchsurfing.com may also be a saving grace for us in our travels. Sure, it is great to save some money on hotels, but it offers a way to meet local people in a meaningful way. Ashish hosted us in Mumbai for 3 nights. He is 31, and has a masters in Finance, and clearly loves his wife. The irony is that his wife was out of town while we were there, but it was really sweet to hear the way he talked about her, and about their life together here. They bough an apartment in the suburbs 6 months ago, and it was the nicest place we've stayed in India. It had double paned class, AC, and a hot water heater that worked within 5 minutes of being turned on. We met him at 10pm the first night we got into the city. He met us, drove us to dinner, and got the tab (despite our best efforts to pay instead). Turns out buying an apartment in Mumbai is almost as expensive as buying real estate in the Bay Area. However, people in Mumbai make $.19 for every dollar that they would make in the states. (These are the things you learn when you stay with someone in the finance industry.) Ashish was smart, open, and an all around great host. Our only regrets was that our schedules didn't permit us to hang out with him as much as we would have liked, and that we didn't get to meet his wife. The beauty of it all, is that as a guest and host, the usually boundaries fall away, and we get to make an actual human connection.