Day 19: God I love ‘Cheers’

“…makin’ your way in the world today…”

Came back to the pad a little earlier today and was treated with a full episode of Cheers. Not something that I would normally sit through at home, but for some reason it’s extremely comfortable, and it was a damn fine sitcom. Perhaps even so good, that it killed the potential for the entire genre following its finale, but that’s a drunken conversation for later.

Back again, with the usual suspects. My thoughts this morning drift to the work I’ve been doing the past three weeks. Initially I committed to this position with extreme trepidation, but as I count down the final hours I feel remiss not to comment on the glorious building and people that have made my stay memorable.

As I’ve mentioned on numerous occasions, my day starts at 1600 with a pounding ring and female voice that let’s me know, “THIS IS YOUR WAKE UP CALL.” The only better voice I could imagine would be that of Cookie Monster Mutumbo. After the wake up call I order an overpriced and under made room service meal and head downstairs for my morning ride to the office.

At 1615 I settle in and catch up on the latest that BBC, The Lodge and Google News has to offer. Then for the next ten hours I try and find something to do, which usually works out. I’ve taken to discussing the social importance of the game of cricket to every Indian that I meet, and each one gives me there own personal story, which usually breaks down like this…Sunday was created by God for every male between 5 and 75 to play cricket wherever and with whatever means possible.

The occasional work conversation slips in, and the enthusiasm for learning the product and processes amazes and inspires me. Without sounding like too much of a corporate cheerleader I have to say that Bombay has hooked me up to the rejuvenation machine regarding what I do and who I do it for. Now, I normally hate anyone that takes time in their free time to promote the values of their corporate benefactor, but it comforts me to know that I’ve gotten to know the good people that are in the trenches and fighting the good fight on behalf of software lackey’s.

(Sidenote to at least four other Lodge members: Guess what American ISP company is also located has a major presence in the same building?...yeah…that one)

There’s a community atmosphere unlike anything else I’ve been a part of for a long time, well, since I was working for said American ISP. I’d like to say that I’m going to take that mentality back to the 935, but I’m fairly certain that this is a result of the both the business and the culture.

The “American Dream” is alive and well and it’s been outsourced to India. The drive to succeed and the willingness to commit to a life of working from 7pm to 5am demonstrates a drive that I’ve never been familiar with, but perhaps that is just me. One of my few regrets is that I don’t have an opportunity to examine this mentality further to understand why the American Dollar continues in rapid decline. Once again, another drunken conversation for another night.

(we’ve moved from a mediocre Cheers episode to the bottom of the 2nd with a “live” BoSox/Tigers match…have a announced my love for all things Jim Leyland? If not, this is a good time to state it…and yes, we’re getting the Fox Sports Detroit feed…not quantity…but quality)

I think I’ve run out of things to say about what I’ve been doing. It’s work. It’s never glamorous, but it’s been closer to the heart than anything I’ve done for a paycheck in a long time and for that, I have to give a Willy—Mo Pena size ‘thank you’ to my Indian brethren.

Thanks for reading.

Day 18: Morning Market Time

Back again…UEFA Cup Final on the Tele…Gold Label to my left and I do believe the captain has turned off the no smoking sign in stately manner 232.

For the past two and half weeks I’ve left my job on average at around 0445 everyday. Along the way from work to the hotel I cross what can only be described as Pike Place Market if it were really interested in selling goods and produce. I learned today the how-to’s of the marketplace from Sagar, my man with the wheel on the streets of Bombay.

The gist goes like this…the train brings in the goods from the country from the day before…the first drop-off comes at around 0415…last sell around 815…in between is simply pure unadulterated capitalism the likes of which even Jay Z would be proud of.

I stare in fear every morning of the pure rush of selling and potential damage some of this produce would do to the urinals of Bombay. This is the breeding ground of urinal social criminals. Despite my fear for the Rocamarket I realized today that my 1730 commute home on the viaduct will never deliver the same level of visual stimulation.

So as I dwindle down my days under the Bengal-Sun I reminisce on this delightfully odd period of my life in the year 2007. The lights flicker on and off in the 232 right now, which might be an indication that my Wednesday is coming to a close, much like Espanyol's UEFA cup chances and my last glass of Gold Label. Cheers.

Days 15-17: a Change for the Better, Gandhi, and Relegation

So here we are…Wednesday morning 0504 sipping Haig Gold Label, watching a Valencia v. Zargarvaeraevaouiouopqzu replay (50th, 2-0 Val) and trying to think of something that would make for even a semi-interesting read….

…Well, since I don’t have any of that I’ll go ahead and stick with my formula, so webmaster please….

1116 UTC // 13.05.07


Sunday morning, last full day off of the trip, good night sleep after shaking off the hang over from Friday night. After hitting up the world famous Meridian breakfast buffet I decide to that I really should get out of my 200 sq ft apartment and “see the city.”

Back-story:

The one continuous issue that has remained a constant since my arrival on Indian soil has been my turbulent relationship with the company that was pre-hired to drive my ass from one rock to another for three weeks. Long back-story short, 11 days of drivers averaging 1.9 trips a day and approximately 19 drivers, one failed pickup and many lost in translation moments.

End of back-story

As I type in the numbers to the original driving company from week one, I notice that no one has picked up the phone for them the last six times I’ve tried. Since, this was the original company and there was a sudden change to another company half way through that I did not posses the number too, I decided that good things come in threes so it was time for a change. Week three, driving company three.

After negotiating a 35% discount through the in-hotel travel agent, I agree to his charges even though I believe I could’ve worked 45.

1142 UTC // 13.05.07

Immediately I noticed a difference in class with my third company. A 2005 Toyota Camry awaiting me with a driver who anticipated my needs and soon became my Indian best friend for the next 4+ hours. Jah-red new the deal, I’m sure the new came down from HQ that another bloody westerner wanted to see the lay of the land, get the photos, haggle with prices and tip well. I think we eventually got most of these accomplished.

I wish I had an amusing story I could tell you, but Jah-red was 30, married with two kids and worked all the time, some things I guess are universally blue collar everywhere. He hooked me up with the sights of the beach, a Hare Krishna, Muslim and Ganesh temples respectively, which quenched my religious vibe for the next decade. I suppose all the synagogues were off the main road.

We progressed throughout the afternoon, hitting only one notable landmark.

1302 UTC // 13.05.07

The House of Gandhi

Knowing nothing more than the name, or that Ben Kingsley did a remarkable job of winning an Oscar for portraying an English version of him, I entered his former home to witness the amazing pictorial archive and library that is this modest three story home in the heart of Bombay.

If Friday was the pinnacle of my visceral experience in Bombay, then the House of Gandhi was my emotional heart of my experience. Despite the all of the things that I will never adjust to about the Bombay way of life, I believe ever human feels some sort of connection with the concept of power through peaceful actions and figurine narratives of his life (sorry, the zoom got the better of the focus for this pic)

The entire scene at the House of Gandhi was uplifting and peaceful, something that is hard to get on the streets of Bombay. I left thinking a little higher about the humanity of us all, until I got back to the car and had to evade three different street-capitalists trying to give me a good deal on “post cards”. I have now made it a priority that there will be no post cards from India that will invade the Seattle city limits.

I leave you with this final image of the House of Gandhi, yes; the room has been kept in tact with full maid service for almost 50 years.

1713 UTC // 13.05.07

Jah-red drops me off after a full day of touring; I thank him for his troubles and steady information on religious temples throughout inner-Bombay. I settle into my room and prepare for one of the biggest nights of the English Premiership.

1930 UTC // 13.05.07

YOU’RE LOOKING LIVE!!! At Wigan versus Sheffield United on channel 23 and West Ham versus the Glorious One’s on channel 24, we also have the two hour Tom Cruise Behind the Actors Studio finishing up on channel 27 for those non-football fans.

For the next 50 minutes we have cut-ins from both games on both channels showing missed goals and goals alike as the excitement in both matches reaches…umm…ahh…fever pitch. After a few glasses of the Haig Gold Label I’m into the relegation battle between Wigan and the Blades, and as the rain continues to pour my emotion rises as I try to sway the results of the match with my whiskey soaked cheers from stately manner 232.

As all know now…Wigan captured the flag and won the all important Premiership millions and then…the coach quit. Only in English Football.

2130 UTC // 13.05.07

After the match I got to watch the Boys in Red prance around and raise the trophy, props to Wayn-o for the hat…nice touch.

So that was Sunday and following that “monumental” day I’ve been back in the grind with nothing really to report other than Sportcentre India is in Hindi, which is actually surprising.

A few days to go and probably only a final recap post remaining, unless of course something “major” goes down on Lower Patel road between now and then.

As always, thanks for reading.

Days 11-14: The Pinnacle and The Bill

After stating continuously that I have nothing better to do than type two page posts for both the Lodge and Fiesta, it might strike regular readers as odd that we’ve gone almost a half week without any sort of content, not even an amusing photo of dogs in heat on the side of the freeway, well worry no more friend: (sorry for the poor focus, but it’s hard to keep the camera steady in a situation like this)

Well without further ado, let us get to the timestamps, the quote and the recommendations.

“I hate to say this, but this place is getting to me. I think I'm getting the fear."

Following my last communication where I confessed my utmost affections for all things Will Wheaton I found my week playing out almost exactly the same as that which preceded it, the monotony, the night, the 55 degree hotel room. I’ve tried to replicate my mentality to mirror Andy Dufresne, (minus having to deal with the Sisters) and just get my time done and attempt to “do it like a man.”

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, they were all the same day just altered by the room service and completely random B movie from the 80’s or 90’s, until Friday night at about….(queue the block timestamp please)

2125 UTC // 11.05.07

I progress through my Friday shift thinking mostly about how I’m going to kill the nest 48 hours of R&R at the Meridan and keep myself sane, when I get the heads up that 0200 is the witching hour at the call center, what this entails I’m not exactly sure, and at this point any break in the action is welcomed, even if it means being stranded in a remote Bombay with a couple of hundred rupees in my pocket. Hey, at least it would make for a good post!.

0325 UTC // 12.05.07

The 0200 departure time fell prey to the hindrance of work, but “go-time” was finally amongst us. The journey begins with trepidation, normally risk taking involves heading out to a bar outside of the 935, but tonight I was placing faith in people I had known for the small side of 8 days and confirmed only by the conversation about the finer aspects of Kingfisher.

The mission begins in the back of non-descript Ford Claire heading back north along the same path I’ve now traveled approximately 23 times. We pull up to a boarded up corner stand that resembles a corner “wine shop” during the day, but doubles for a bootlegging shack “after hours.” Order are placed, I wait in blur of nervousness and sleep deprivation, but maintain a consistent optimism.

After a further thirty minutes of driving, half of which include back roads without lights or pavement, we arrive at the set destination, somewhere along the northwest coast of Bombay far away from corner cricket matches and signs of the impending Z-apocalypse.

0406 UTC // 12.05.07

The mood initially was a tad bit uncomfortable as we setup two car trunks back to back and began to poor mixed drinks for approximately a dozen people. Luckily I had an American brother with me to commiserate the oddity of this late night Indian tailgate, but as I soon found out, I had all of my Indian brothers with me too.

The drinks included whiskey (scotch as they know it), rum, vodka and Kingfisher regular and strong (8%). I believe I impressed the bunch (or at least that is my recollection) with my taking of Indian Scotch straight without mixers to open up the Indian tailgate. I followed this with my first taste of Kingfisher Strong and shortly after that I met “Bob”(name changed to protect the guilty).

Bob had been keeping the same pace as me (this data is purely speculative) and quickly I found his inflections of Hindi jokes hilarious. He politely translated for me and my American brother so that I would fully understand that he is the type that would always be welcomed at any tailgate of mine.

The drunken banter remained for the next several hours as we listened to 80’s Metallica followed by 90’s Eagles, followed by Nirvana until the Sun peaked its head over the horizon. I quickly realized that tailgaters across the world only differ in language and mode of transportation, but the enjoyment is universal. As the sun continued to rise and the bottles continued to stack up I realized that I had reached the pinnacle of my journey on the other side of the world from my home. The sense of familiarity and collective enjoyment made it a little bit easier to be so isolated from the things I’ve been missing so dearly.

0812 UTC // 12.05.07

The night/morning ended with a game of football played on the beach by a group of drunken brothers using beach trash for goal posts and a flat volleyball as the necessary equipment. The game ended 0-0 after a solid 10 minutes and all of us realizing it was too hot and we were too gone to complete the match.

This is the point were I tell you about certain memories will last with you forever, and that’s true.

1617 UTC // 12.05.07


“Our room service tabs had been running somewhere between $29 and $36 per hour, for two consecutive weeks. Incredible. How could it happen”

I finally pulled the eyes open around the timestamp and realized that I have nothing to do for a long time and my only goal for today is to stay up until around 0200 to prevent the Monday crash during work. What to do when you have time and no Premiership on Saturday?...Well you pop on disc one of Firefly (lent to me from yet another American brother) on the laptop and put the Real Madrid Athletico Bilbao on mute.

Prior to my slack marathon though, I woke up to a letter under my door requesting a call to the front desk. Immediately I thought the worst. The gig is up. I wonder how long I can exist on the streets of Bombay. How does Western Union work? Fortunately this was just a check up on my bill (and for financial purposes the number will not be disclosed), where I broke down my per hour rupee count at the hotel and laughed. Yes, I’m still in the hotel, for now.

As I mentioned in my comments on MCP’s overly long previews post, this series is better the second time around and the guy playing the captain has actually grown on me, much like overly long travel diaries. Anyway, I by the time I finish this post I’m probably going to be done with the series, and I have to say, I think I’m finally ready to give the movie a go. I feel like I’ve crossed a line that I may never have a chance to go back from, or maybe it’s just the frickin’ water around here, but “when I’m wrong…I say I’m wrong”, and I may or may not be wrong about this, I’m still not sure.

I’m going to cut this now to save space. Thanks for reading.

Day Ten: Mumbai Wildlife, Will Wheaton and the Hight Water Mark

I really don’t have much and I have even little since being distracted by Stand by Me that started the moment I got back to my hotel room. So I leave you with a photo before I turn in for the day…and remember the age old question:

How do you know if a Frenchman has been in your backyard?

Cheers

Day 8 and 9: So I Lied

“The best-laid schemes of mice and men oft go awry”

Ok, so I’m not posting everyday, since I refuse to comment about the mundane existence of traveling in a cab the same 15 mile stretch to and from work. I will comment however that I did experience my first Indian mall experience yesterday and I can honestly report that my disdain for shopping utopia on the other side of the world matches that to my own corner.

It did make me feel a little comfortable in a perverse capitalistic way, but it quickly evaporated. I would like to report that there were unique elements to major chain stores, or Indian replicants, i.e. Foot Locker is now Shoe Zone or something, but alas globalization has painted this corner of the organized shopping world with the same beige tone that exists in Tukwilla, not that I really have a problem with that and to prove it, please view exhibit A.(The pear is for artistic freedom)I would like to report that my experience has been taken to another level after the adventure that was Elephanta Island, but that would be like saying MCP is a casual comic fan, (p.s. I’ll see what I can do about the Bollywood FC, I was unaware such a thing existed, you better not be f’n with me.)

I sit here with the sun coming up watching a “live” showing of the Nets/Cavs game, (forty-something to fifty-something at half) enjoying a nice Kingfisher wondering what the next several days will bring. I have to say, as sad as it sounds I’m actually enjoying my work now more than I have in approximately 16 months, for whatever that’s worth. There’s a level of community and hospitality amongst the residents-of-Mumbai-that-work-at-this-particular-call-center that is warm and welcoming to an outsider from the 935.

That’s all I got until next time.

Day Six and Seven and a half: Daytime Boat Adventure!!!

It’s been a little while, but here we go again with everyone’s favorite travel diary. When we last left our story, our hero was burnt out from work and looking forward to a change in routine. To utilize my second quote from Apocalypse Now:

“Everyone gets everything he wants. I wanted a change, and for my sins, they gave me one. Brought it up to me like room service. It was a real choice change, and when it was over, I never wanted another.”

1045 UTC // 05.05.07 (May Day)

After getting an hour and a half sleep following Friday’s shift, I got up and proceeded to prep myself for the first daytime adventure. The typical communication with my drivers to this point has been as follows:

Me: “1030..1030am…4 hours…Gateway…Gateway of India…ok”
Driver: “Yeah Yeah…20 minutes…ok…”
Me: “20 minutes?”
Driver: “Just write down…20 minutes yes…”

For the first time I actually arrive down to the lobby before the driver, and thus beginning “the ride”. I only mention the time, because I had tentatively planned on meeting up with some people that I’m working with and in the midst of Mumbai traffic…punctuality is a bonus. So our drive begins by going the same direction as the call center (south) and ending up going a little longer than I had planned. After an hour the driver finally stops another cabbie where the Gateway of India is located, perhaps I had underestimated that this was common knowledge. I suppose it wasn’t the first cabbie that he asked, but the 4th and 5th ones that alarmed me a little.

Earlier in the week I also commented about the driving conditions and use of the horn, counting the number 10,000 for the entire 15 mile drive my first and subsequent drivers have used, well, yesterday I found the only driver in Mumbai that doesn’t believe in the church of horns. He also didn’t believe in driving over the speed of 35 km/h, and because of that…not once, but twice was he pulled over, in subsequent stop lights. I must say that I’ve never wanted to get out of the car, hand the police officer a couple of bills and say, “what is problem?” We finally arrived and following a 15 minute parallel parking incident similar to the first time I ever rode with Train, I was at the very same spot that King George V and Queen Mary saw when they first arrived in Bombay.

1310 UTC // 05.05.07

The scene walking up to the Gateway was nothing but pure madness, with offers ranging from giant balloons that resembled, well…. To roasted peanuts warmed with hand burners using street trash to overpriced post cards…who uses post cards anymore when you have the Lodge and a digital camera?

Anyway, my driver followed me down until we met a very energetic middle-aged man who was looking to arrange my travel and settle parking with my driver. So 125 ($3)rp went for the ticket, while 100 rp went to my driver to hang out and grab a King Fisher, while I grab the slow boat to Elephanta Island.

After our business deal had ended my travel agent insisted once again that he would cut me a very nice deal on a set of Mumbai and Elephanta Island post cards...I believe his sales tactic went something like:..”you take to lady back home?” If you’re reading princess, I apologize, but your take from my trip will be minus a set of Mumbai post cards.

1330 UTC // 05.05.07


I board the boat after grabbing a liter of water for 15rp and an upper deck seat on the ferry for an extra 10rp. The latter of which was primarily based on the effervescent glow of my white skin, and the entrepreneurial spirit of my young boating agents, this pattern would continue.

While aboard the S.S. Junktboat, I had the opportunity to sit behind the captain as he steered us through the harbor to the magical world Elephanta Island. The captain seemed indifferent to me, but was pleased when two young ladies from outside of Mumbai began questioning him regarding the surrounding area and “New Mumbai”.

1430 UTC // 05.05.07

We exit the S.S. and the moment my foot touches the planks of the deck, I have a new best friend, NBF, for the next two hours, who will guide me and explain all of the things that kid from the 935 never thought he’d see. After the two hour car-ride and lack of lively conversation with my driver I decide that I’ll oblige in the tourist trap and have the guy do his thing and I’ll enjoy the trip.

As we walk up the dock I am instructed to give NBF 255rp in order to secure my entrance to the caves and the many magical wonders that wait in store. I assume for a moment that there is a very real possibility that I might have lost the 255rp due to the speed that NBF is walking. But everything turns out to be ok, because NBF apparently has a good relationship with the entrance agents, and gets me through without have to pay them….ahhh…third world capitalism.

On our way up these ladies thought it was necessary for me to photograph them with water on their heads…go ahead and look…get a good look…the photo cost me 50rp.

We begin with Cave One, which contains many different sculptures of various Indian Gods and their story. The sculpting is impressive however there have been modern touches added that remove a lot of the ancient old-world charm. I continue through the first cave room, throwing a dime into the wishing well, (apparently malls do not have a copyright on this) then proceeding outside to the world of the monkeys.

The monkeys were similar, a little larger, to the bad dates monkey, but since I didn’t see any motorized vehicles or a gentleman with an eye patch I figured they were friendly. They turn out to be a nuisance to the agriculture on the island and raid the food droppings of children. This is much the same criticism Cash Dollar receives.

We continue on until we reach the top of the small, but large hill for Southeastern India, where I see two canon turrets for former British artillery. I ask NBF what the opinion of the British are by the locals, to which he replies, they are a little pushy. I’m not sure if he was speaking in past perfect or present perfect with reference to British presence and occupation. We conclude by climbing down the mountain and entering a watering hole to discuss cricket, football and Shevchenko.

1530 UCT // 05.05.07

We sit down next to two extremely white gentlemen like myself who are enjoying the 8% Strong King Fisher and speaking in….hmmm….yes…that’s it….Russian!!! They immediately recognize NBF and throw up awkward high-fives (or something similar) and discuss how well they’re doing…good on both accounts. As they were leaving one of the Russian begins speaking with me and I find out the following: a) he’s from St. Petersburg, but works in Mumbai b) his daughter lives in Long Island and is a dentist. He was shocked that I had not met her and informed him that I would look her up once I get back to the states.

NBF orders us two regular King Fishers and we sit and for a moment I believe we are going to enjoy a genuine moment, especially after he tells me that he once swam from Elphanta Island to Mumbai (11km, 6mi), but then we discuss his services and having only pulled out 1000rp earlier in the week knew that this might be an issue after what I had already dropped today.

We conclude that since I was short we could head to a vendor and get money from him, there’s nowhere ATM’s won’t go. This however, was an old world ATM, requiring the store owner to call in the order and do the manual swipe. The first time he tried to call the line was down and was unable to make a connection, but “would you like to look at something special?”…To which I replied…”not really.” However I knew that I would have to purchase something in order to get myself out of this predicament, and I grew tired of NBF and was quickly looking for no-NBFs.

I ended up with this little number, which cost way too much along with how much I paid the guy and in the order of not divulging my expense report online, I’m not able to tell you what the final amount was spent at this remote island ATM. However I do believe this will make a nice addition to the Lodge.

I parted ways with NBF, hoping that his knee gets better and that he continues to work on his bowling (the pitching aspect of Cricket). I also informed him that he was one of the best capitalist that I had ever met, (I believe he might have taken offense to this). I finally met up with my co-workers and we enjoyed the blaring sounds of Indian Radio as we headed back on the new S.S. Junkit.

1630 UCT // 05.05.07

When I arrived back at the Gateway I was not ready for the speed of the Mumbai capitalists and I try to communicate to my driver that it is time for use to return back. In the back of my mind I know that the Manchester Derby starts in a half hour and I really just wanted to find the George and Dragon East and enjoy the next two hour watching footy. This, unfortunately is not what happens. We spend another two hours driving back to the hotel with the driver only asking once how to get there and then finally explaining that his license was going to be removed because of the ticket earlier. I believe might have been asking me for assistance, but at that point I was done with the third world speed and ready for a good Felix and the final minutes of the Derby.

1835 UCT // 05.05.07

I get to the hotel and catch Van der Saar put the finishing touches on the Premiership title with a lucky/brilliant kick save of Darius Vassell’s PK. This was followed moments later by a very awkward jump and embrace performance by Sir Alex and the rest of the coaches. I order some very mediocre room service and I’m done before the 10th minute of the Fulham/Liverpool match.

So here I am today, re-gathering my thoughts from yesterday, listening to SModcast 8, getting ready for a little treadmill action and not leaving the hotel. I need a day break from the speed of Mumbai; perhaps I should give NBF a call and see what he thinks I should do? Wait, they only have power from 7pm-1030pm. Maybe later then.

Sorry for length, but it’s Sunday and it's two days for the price of one.

Recommendations:

TV:

ESPN SouthAsia…really, really, really good coverage of the EPL….three live games in a row on Saturday night beginning at 5pm, meanwhile the other channel had corresponding games at 7 and 9. Five game all in all, with post and pre match commentary.

Movies:

I get a bastardized watered-down version of HBO (kind of like Cinemax) here that actually shows 90 seconds of commercials, not good, but I also get another channel that does edit there movies, but instead of commercials they show 30-45 seconds of upcoming movie clips and movies that I never knew where even shown on TV anywhere:
i.e. Electra Glide in Blue, 8 Million Ways to Die (w/ a mock-pony-tailed Andy Garcia) Borderline…
Ever seen these films? Yeah…neither have I…anyway…if you’re going to break up a film, it’s a good way to do it…that’s how they got me into Cruel Intentions.

Day Five: I got nothing

So in my commitment that I will make a post everyday while I’m here, I am making a post that most would say is a duplicate of the game ManU played last night. Well not with the fun of labels!!!

Left work earlier today and I must say getting back to the hotel while it’s still dark helps my mentality a bit, even though by the time I’m done typing this it will be light. I didn’t sleep much last night thanks to a heavily edited version of Cruel Intentions on one of the 5 American channels here. Yes, you just read that last sentence correctly, it might have been the film, but we can probably blame the excellent tea I had for breakfast. Regardless, I got about five hours last night, which proved to be not nearly sufficient for a 10 hour shift.

Well, that’s my story; yeah I said it was lame. The only thing more I have to comment on is that I never thought I’d be happier to see a live Astros versus Reds game live when I turned on the tele in my room. Currently it’s 3-1 ‘Stros in the top of the second thanks to a dead-armed Eric Milton, who looks a little Indian, which might be why this game is on.

Once again a big shoutout to CTown who represents all that is Lodge with the world.

See you tomorrow with hopefully something to write about.

Recommendations:

Food:

Chinese Food in Mumbai, yes, tonight I was introduced to “gravy” on top of phenomenal fried rice and noodles served in sandwich baggies. Good heat, good flavor, fecal content? Well, you try not to think of that. I think they’re still open for take out Train.

Day Four: Routine

Not the most flashing of titles, not the most flashing of days. As I sit once again appreciating a 700rp Johnny Walker neat I think back to my day and for the first time was not overwhelmed by anything in particular. I’ve now made six successful journey’s from my hotel to work and today and the routine is starting to get, well, ordinary.

The poverty, the insane driving, the accents, the hospitality, it’s all starting to become part of my daily, well, routine. I operate in 12 hour cycles, one that includes breakfast, Johnny Walker, typing and sleeping and the other that includes “The Felix”, car ride and working. I have my first weekend coming up and I’m hoping that the god of fate helps me break out of the routine for at least a couple of hours. Don’t get me wrong, the routine is part of why I was hesitant to make this journey and now I find the old adage of wherever you go, you’ll find routine.

Once I have enough pictures I will make a couple of single issue posts, but depending on traffic it’s hard to grab the right shot at the right mph or km/h, but for now the rundown of the day and the highlight only really included one event…my first real Indian Cuisine.

2330 UTC 02.05.07

Lunch around here is a little more difficult than I’m used to. During a typical American workday after 11am it’s pretty much a given that you can find food anywhere, in a variety of colors, shapes and sizes. Not so much with my Mumbai lifestyle. 2300 is the hour of reckoning, where you must commit to either a) hitting up a local to call in you a delivery from a local joint (cross-fingers) or b) make the decision to get by with some mixed nuts and bananas from the hotel until you get back in the morning. Today offered up a little variety.

One of the imported Americans helped gather a group of people to visit a local establishment located about 150 steps from the entrance of our work area. This is also the first time I attempted to cross four lanes of road, and even at 2330 at night this became the real life Frogger. I plan on returning to the states and selling my idea to Fox for the next big reality series involving 10 contestants that must cross 100 lanes of rush hour Indian traffic without being maimed or slaughtered, the prize, a 2001 Ford Clair with 150,000 Indian traffic miles on it.

After successfully crossing my first four, (only 96 to go), we entered an establishment that had a fish tank. Yeah…that’s the best description I can use. Le Fish Tank was a little put out by our late arrival, but committed to serving the group and did so with at least a pleasant grimace. The eating experience of the night will go down as one of the top three oddest/greatest, dinner/lunch outings/festivas that I’ve ever experienced.

I’m playing the strategy with meals here that I’m going to go until I find something that I simply can’t tolerate or that can’t tolerate me. My only danger has come from American style hotel cuisine, so I’m throwing caution into the wind and leaving me fate in the hands of the locals. Am I crazy? Stupid? Mel Gibson?...maybe, but after this experience I’m going to stick with it for a while.

I apologize for not gathering photos of the experience or memorizing what it was exactly that I ingested, but it broke down something like this:

*4-5 plates of curry ranging in color from dark red, to medium red, to light red to green.
*containing chicken, fish, prawns and cottage cheese, which is by far the best. Yes, I’m serious.
*Three different flavors of Non, all unbelievable
*Two different combinations of rice including vegetables and chicken.
*And finally a licorice-herb combination that surprisingly did finish off the meal quite nicely and left a pleasant flavor in my mouth, so there.

Final total for meal in US dollars for 7 people: $32.57 (that sound you hear is Train booking a flight) and yes…for two dollars a day you can feed a hungry American in India.

The rest of the day was quite uneventful, (SPOILER ALERT) especially from a Devil fan that would’ve paid $10 to watch a drubbing at the hands of a team that shouldn’t even be allowed to play in the Champions League. In all honesty, I blame myself, I believe my absence from the Lodge dressed to the nine’s in red jeopardized my teams chance at a treble, even though I sport the following for all those who enter my Lodge East domain.

The good news is that the Manchester Derby will be on the tele on Saturday and India is in the perfect time zone for all the matches. Unfortunately, this makes the FA Cup Final even bigger, with both teams ready to extract blood from the other to bid for at least a double.

My congrats go to the Scouse and the Ultra’s, may the Greek police never sleep in your presence. It must be nice to sit around with nothing domestically to play for and rest your squad for Europe. The sounds of bitter Devil echoed the Le Meridian.

That’s it for now…(don’t worry Duke I’m still working on the Z post, need more photos though).

Recommendations:

Food:

*Le Meridian buffet breakfast, Japanese, Indian and Quasi-American cuisine all for the right price if you know the right people. Apparently, the Japanese are really ok with the buffet thing.

Day Three: Marty, the Dredges have Found Me

So as my time progresses I find that working 12 hour shifts half way around the world is probably just like working 12 hour shifts elsewhere, except that I see approximately half a million* people on my way to work.

1726 UTC// 02.05.07

This morning, on par with the whole experience I slept until the exact time I told the cab driver to pick me up (the three layered curtain thing really works). So, another morning, another rushed Felix and I’m out the lobby. I come to find out that it would have behooved me to stay an extra five minutes.

1754 UTC // 02.05.07

(Please do not eat while reading the following story)
On my way to finding an ATM machine this morning I immediately get hit with something that can only be described as a five alarm on the downside. Out of know where I’m suddenly waiting in an ATM line and looking around at available destinations for the impending doom that is quickly forcing its way to the surface. As my cab driver patiently waits for me to draw out money I immediately run to his side of the car with screams of help, the following conversation quickly occurs:

Me:”I need….a….bathroom…sorry…washroom…”
Cabby: “there is no…”
Me: “no…I need now…”
Cabby: (points over shoulder to an Indian Oil station)

I run to the air-conditioned inside to ask the Oil barons if they would be so kind to show me the rest room. A young man takes me behind the station to a cut out closet with a urinal and bar door to keep you “private”. Since my needs did not match those that were being provided and a mudslide on its way to freedom, I was left with no choice…I…I….pulled a Stan Marsh.

(a nation of scousers understands)


Why do I share this story with you? I really don’t know, unless to prove the point that, don’t judge you too could wind up in the same place. Oh, and I did pull the money out of the ATM and somewhere in Mumbai there is a group of Oil barons that course my existence and believe that all white men from here on out will provide the same damage to his urinal.

But hey, what happens in Mumbai goes on the Lodge and Curry Fiesta

I will report that no one was hurt in this story and everything is operating correctly now.

As for the rest of the day, well there was a lot of work involved. I didn’t ride home on the same street as yesterday so I’m still not prepared for my Z survival rating, but I did try my first curry and yes, I have to report that it is true that India does make good curry. Hold back you amazement and open your minds.

0712 UTC // 02.05.97

Starting to adjust to working through the night, which I’m not sure how I feel other than there is a since of optimism that is far greater when the light is just coming up and you are just leaving work. I have some photos below from my car ride home today.

Recommendations:

Champions League Football:

Livapool/ Blues:
I got home and the final touches were on the game…a little bit of joy (not for the result) to an already traumatic day.

That’s all I got, I promise I’ll try better tomorrow.