I got here fine. The flight from Vienna was super easy: very empty (so I was able to stretch out), decent movies (Nanny Diaries, Bourne Ultimatum, and then this awesome Bollywood movie about the India National Women's Field Hockey Team...it totally fed my love for teen sports/competition movies), and good food (including good, strong coffee).
I went through immigration etc with no problem, my bag arrived (miraculously), some security guard said I could bypass this entire security/x-ray checkpoint (I was doubting whether he was for real, I understood him correctly, or both...but did it anyway), changed some money, and walked out. Then I panicked. I hate walking through that last step before you hit the masses. I feel protected until then and immediately overwhelmed after. Plus I sort of forgot that I was the white, foreign guy whom everyone wants to "help". I got really anxious and wanted to barrel through (to what, I'm not sure), but fortunately had someone tell me how to get a taxi. I meant to ask at the change forex but forgot, so now I'm relying on someone who may or may not be scamming me. Feeling that skeptical about other people's motives is really uncomfortable, and I'm never really sure if I'm rightly protecting myself or overreacting unnecessarily in those situations. Anyway, there was a taxi stand that is pre-paid, by distance, clearly marked, and ultimately cheap enough that I didn't care (like $8 for a half hour ride). But it was this weird system where the woman who takes your money at the stand assigns you a cab (air conditioned ones are more expensive, for one); you take that receipt with the cab number to stand number two, who gets the driver for you. I skipped stand number two by mistake and just found some dude who found the cab, put my stuff in, and then ran off (with my receipt...see paranoid skepticism above) to find that cab's driver. He was over at some restaurant (don't you love it?) so we drove there and guy #1 ran in to get him. Then we finally got going.
I think I'd psyched myself out about this a little, mostly because it wasn't Africa. If I were going to Nigeria, I think I would have been a little less freaked (at least that's what I tell myself). But for some reason, the true foreign=ness of this place to me was freaking me out. In a lot of ways, I'm that arrogant American coming in with little knowledge of the culture, language, etc; I'm slowly getting better at either not doing that as much or being more okay with it, I'm not sure which (or which is better/worse). Combined with all the talk of how many people there are here, how crowded everything is, etc., I was letting myself get a little wrapped up in it before it had even started. Then in the cab I saw all the people walking along the streets, the commercial stalls that are sort of falling in, the misspelled, hand-painted signs, and I felt okay. It was quite odd, actually, but I didn't really question it. I just sort of had a feeling that it was going to be okay. Something felt recognizable, some analogy to someplace else I'd been, and I calmed down a little bit.
We finally made it to the apartment after a number of wrong turns and having to ask for directions a handful of times (that made me feel more comfortable, actually). I walked up the (unlit) stairs and found the place. I felt bad for ringing the doorbell so late, but it seemed like everyone was up once I walked in. There are six guys living here in three bedrooms (I'm sharing a room), so there's a lot going on just within the apartment already. One of the six is the main guy (I don't think he owns the place, but it's clearly his to be renting), who is very nice, self-employed (software developer or something?) and works from home. Another is the manager of a big department store (some UK chain I'd vaguely heard of) at this huge mall nearby. One guy works at JP Morgan, although I don't know doing what. One guy I don't know much about. The department store guy (my roommate) and JP Morgan wanted to talk, so we were up until 2 talking. They both wanted to know a lot about Harvard, which was fine to talk about. I'm avoiding being very specific about what I'm here to do because of its ties to the gay community (and who knows how that might go down...my sense is probably fine, but you never know), so I'm planning on not talking about my own work very much.
Last but not least is the full time servant, who is one of the six who lives here. I think that's more than standard, at least among all the other places I was looking to stay, but it's still so weird to me. He cooks all the meals, cleans, does the laundry, etc. Like, he brought me tea in bed (at my roommate's request, since I still have no idea what the hell's going on and I don't think Sanjay, the servant, speaks much English). I think I just equate this level of "help" as either extravagant and unnecessary or makes me think of slavery. Either way, it's weird.
The one thing that I can now smell and otherwise understand is what this weather.com forecast means. The general forecast is always "Sunny", but the actual details are:
Right.
So the goals for the day are to head out to the mall, get a SIM card, walk around the neighborhood a bit, call the people I'm working with to connect up with them, and just kick it. I also have to go to the supermarket for bottled water and toilet paper (I so forgot about that, and there's clearly none here).
I went through immigration etc with no problem, my bag arrived (miraculously), some security guard said I could bypass this entire security/x-ray checkpoint (I was doubting whether he was for real, I understood him correctly, or both...but did it anyway), changed some money, and walked out. Then I panicked. I hate walking through that last step before you hit the masses. I feel protected until then and immediately overwhelmed after. Plus I sort of forgot that I was the white, foreign guy whom everyone wants to "help". I got really anxious and wanted to barrel through (to what, I'm not sure), but fortunately had someone tell me how to get a taxi. I meant to ask at the change forex but forgot, so now I'm relying on someone who may or may not be scamming me. Feeling that skeptical about other people's motives is really uncomfortable, and I'm never really sure if I'm rightly protecting myself or overreacting unnecessarily in those situations. Anyway, there was a taxi stand that is pre-paid, by distance, clearly marked, and ultimately cheap enough that I didn't care (like $8 for a half hour ride). But it was this weird system where the woman who takes your money at the stand assigns you a cab (air conditioned ones are more expensive, for one); you take that receipt with the cab number to stand number two, who gets the driver for you. I skipped stand number two by mistake and just found some dude who found the cab, put my stuff in, and then ran off (with my receipt...see paranoid skepticism above) to find that cab's driver. He was over at some restaurant (don't you love it?) so we drove there and guy #1 ran in to get him. Then we finally got going.
I think I'd psyched myself out about this a little, mostly because it wasn't Africa. If I were going to Nigeria, I think I would have been a little less freaked (at least that's what I tell myself). But for some reason, the true foreign=ness of this place to me was freaking me out. In a lot of ways, I'm that arrogant American coming in with little knowledge of the culture, language, etc; I'm slowly getting better at either not doing that as much or being more okay with it, I'm not sure which (or which is better/worse). Combined with all the talk of how many people there are here, how crowded everything is, etc., I was letting myself get a little wrapped up in it before it had even started. Then in the cab I saw all the people walking along the streets, the commercial stalls that are sort of falling in, the misspelled, hand-painted signs, and I felt okay. It was quite odd, actually, but I didn't really question it. I just sort of had a feeling that it was going to be okay. Something felt recognizable, some analogy to someplace else I'd been, and I calmed down a little bit.
We finally made it to the apartment after a number of wrong turns and having to ask for directions a handful of times (that made me feel more comfortable, actually). I walked up the (unlit) stairs and found the place. I felt bad for ringing the doorbell so late, but it seemed like everyone was up once I walked in. There are six guys living here in three bedrooms (I'm sharing a room), so there's a lot going on just within the apartment already. One of the six is the main guy (I don't think he owns the place, but it's clearly his to be renting), who is very nice, self-employed (software developer or something?) and works from home. Another is the manager of a big department store (some UK chain I'd vaguely heard of) at this huge mall nearby. One guy works at JP Morgan, although I don't know doing what. One guy I don't know much about. The department store guy (my roommate) and JP Morgan wanted to talk, so we were up until 2 talking. They both wanted to know a lot about Harvard, which was fine to talk about. I'm avoiding being very specific about what I'm here to do because of its ties to the gay community (and who knows how that might go down...my sense is probably fine, but you never know), so I'm planning on not talking about my own work very much.
Last but not least is the full time servant, who is one of the six who lives here. I think that's more than standard, at least among all the other places I was looking to stay, but it's still so weird to me. He cooks all the meals, cleans, does the laundry, etc. Like, he brought me tea in bed (at my roommate's request, since I still have no idea what the hell's going on and I don't think Sanjay, the servant, speaks much English). I think I just equate this level of "help" as either extravagant and unnecessary or makes me think of slavery. Either way, it's weird.
The one thing that I can now smell and otherwise understand is what this weather.com forecast means. The general forecast is always "Sunny", but the actual details are:
Right.
So the goals for the day are to head out to the mall, get a SIM card, walk around the neighborhood a bit, call the people I'm working with to connect up with them, and just kick it. I also have to go to the supermarket for bottled water and toilet paper (I so forgot about that, and there's clearly none here).
Labels: airports, india, mumbai, transitions, transportation, travel
Thanks to your post I have learned that smoke is a metereological occurrence. Thanks for that.
seriously. i think i may come back with the asthma to show for it...