Sorry For Onions

Today we leave Mumbai, and that is a very good thing. Yesterday, we reached the limit of massive tourism action, and it is time for some better air quality and less fraught roadways.

First off, we hit the formerly known as Prince of Wales museum (it has been renamed, but my books fail to list the new moniker which is at least five words long, and anyway, typing it here would do no one any good). It had some interesting sculpture, one very fancy box, and a wing full of sad looking taxidermied animalitos. The building itself and the grounds were gorgeous. After that, we headed to lunch, which was a chicken leg in some greenish curry sauce in a hole in the wall Parsi place with a sign on the back wall that read “Sorry for Onions.” I can only guess that this was directed towards any Jain guests who can’t eat onions, rather than just a blanket apology for onions in general ( tho they do occasionally make us cry).



At the hottest part of the day we boarded a launch for Elephanta Island. It took an eternity to get out there, and depressingly, the bay was as polluted as the air ( we could not see the island from the shore because of the heavy haze). The island is famous for caves from about 600 AD that contain some stunning sculptures of Hindu deities, such as our main man Shiva and friends. Luckily, it wasn’t all that cave-like, more like a grand, pillar-supported hall that just happens to be carved out of rock. Adding entertainment (and some suspense) to the day were the bands of ugly little monkeys that roamed the place. A monkey fight is a terrible thing, and these fellas weren’t getting along. Once the screeching began, we rolled out of there.

Dinner was chinese. Why? Exhaustion. How was it? O.K.
Next stop is Goa. We’ve been promised internets there. Pictures are finally loading this morning. Trying to post some of the backlog!

Republic Day

Turns out that today was Republic day, India’s equivalent of 4th of July (minus the fireworks, at least here in this part of Mumbai). As with NYC, everyone who didn’t have to go into the city stayed home, so walking around was fun rather than borderline terrifying. Every fellow under 30 was engaged in some form of cricket and families were out and about doing touristy things too. Interestingly, the huge park nearby that was jam-packed with cricket players had nary a piece of trash on the grass when we passed through this evening. This can hardly be said for McCarren park in our beloved Brooklyn after any day that is not torrentially raining. One thing that seems totally backwards tho, is that many restaurants today had a sign out saying it was a "Dry Day for the Holiday." What? Why?!!

Also interesting (to me at least) is that all the bills here feature the image of Gandhi, who I’m pretty certain wasn’t all that into money. I don’t think the colloquialism “all about the Gandhis” is set to take off any time soon either, but I should also mention that there is (strangely) a lot of signage here encouraging people to invest in Franklin Templeton securities ( or stocks, or whatever… I’m impervious to adverts when it comes to details, but who can mistake Benny F’s craggy face?). So, Ben and Ghandi are kicking it together here on the economic front. I give it a head bobble for perplexingness.

Back to food. Today was vegetarian dosas for lunch ( total cost 2 dollars) and for dinner CHICKEN TIKKA MASALA. Now that I’ve had it, I can go home. Anyway, to quote my wisest, blondest friend, ” It was Good :)”.

More tomorrow including a report on Elephanta Island which I’ve heard contains little to no elephants. We’ll see about that.

Walk. Eat. Nap.

Day two on the subcontinent. Awoke before dawn and caught the sunrise from our balcony. Very shortly thereafter, the air began to fill with the abrasive cawing of many crows, Many murders of crows in fact. Unexpected.





Eventually we hit the streets and visited the Victoria Terminus train station, a gothic monstrosity where, according to our guidebook, 2 million people pass through on a daily basis. Our intention was to buy tickets to Goa for the weekend (the train we wanted is impossibly sold out, it seems).




Swimming like the mighty salmon against currents of commuters, we walked to a shopping district, got lost and then ate, napped and repeated a similar cycle in the early evening, with the exception that this time we hoofed it to the Gate of India- a big stone arch by the harbor, which also neighbors the Taj Palace/Tower hotel, where the terrorist attack happened in 2008. It’s clear to see why it was chosen. While there is tons of security there now (too little, too late), it’s the ritziest and most high profile hotel in the city and separated from the harbor by only a two lane road.


It’s hard to really chronicle what we’ve been seeing because everything here is so vast. The population is astounding (although I would estimate on the streets you see 5 men to every woman), the traffic is heart stopping ( taxis really seem to aim for you, this is not a city for anyone but the spry) and the poverty is heartbreaking and difficult to reckon with. Yet it is also a very peaceful place. I haven’t heard a raised voice, I constantly see people greeting one another warmly, and the families we’ve seen all along the economic spectrum seem kind and loving.


And of course, I must talk about food. Lunch was at a Parsi place, which didn’t seem that much different from traditional “Indian” food- curry sauce and rice. Dinner was a vegetarian thali, a tray with a selection of soups , potato masala, some stewed turnip greens (not my favorite), rice, coconut chutney and some roti bread to scoop it all up with. It cost a little more than a dollar.


I do have photos to share, but current internet is aggravatingly slow and I haven't managed to get a strong enough connection to upload. Hopefully soon.

They call it Mumbai

Mumbai was hot and hazy when we landed this morning after countless hours of traveling. The city presented itself suddenly after miles of nothing out the window but sea. High rises that look like they could belong in Florida seem to climb directly out of the tin-roofed shanty-towns next door.

Immediately after arriving, I witnesses a small skirmish in the ladies room (apparently queues are not universally respected). A half hour later, our taxi driver, who pulled over a few times through our brief, horn honking filled journey, to coax the engine back to life, finally stopped the car and announced with regret "No brakes." Bummer. But soon we were in a new cab on our way to the hotel, which is a block from the sea.

Post epic nap, we took to the chaotic streets (safety in numbers is key when crossing streets, we trailed locals like long shadows) in search of eats. Found: tasty curry w. kingfish. Success.

Hope to have some pics to share tomorrow.

The Passing Calm

Hey, so it's been a while, huh? 2011 already and after a whiplash visit to NYC and a month of family visiting and funds saving in sunny Florida, we are about to embark on another leg of the journey.

In two days, we head first to Miami, then fly to London, kick it there for ten hours, then another LONG flight to Mumbai in, get this, India. Snap! I haven't yet looked into how long the flight is from London to Mumbai. I don't really want to know. Unfortunately, until they get those outer-atmostpheric superjets working, there is no other way.

We're as prepared as we can get (we think). We've dropped serious dollars on vaccinations against all manner of ills (Polio, I thought you were eradicated!) and have mad pills in case of unplanned ills ( such as sweats or chills). We've got peanut butter and sunscreen and little coils that boil water, and a bunch of mostly unread guide books (and yes, I do mean guide books on India). We are in the all too familiar situation of being totally geared up and completely unprepared itinerary wise. It usually works out for us, but as my nervous stomach will attest, this time I have some concerns.

What I know of India (which is not much) is from books. Arundhati Roy, some Rushdie, maybe an odd Lahiri novel or two. And while I read the Ramayana in college, I don't think that will come in too handy (nor do I expect to encounter any talking monkeys). Everyone has told us that there is no preparing for the culture shock that awaits, and I accept that. I just hope that despite being so clueless, we make it back in one piece.

In other news, if you've been following this blog, you know there was some movie making a-happening back in October/November. Well, there is some fruit finally falling from that tree, and if you haven't yet experienced it through some other form of social media, behold, the teaser trailer.

CR photos in the Face!

It's a raining today in La Fortuna, a town in the central region of Costa Rica which is known for its large active volcano, and for some hot springs. As everything here is lava-centric, there is absolutely nothing to do (or see- with the fog I can't even really confirm whether there is a volcano nearby, but I guess I'll take its dangerous proximity on faith).

But anyhoo, the upside is that this is the first place we've been at for weeks with an internet connection that can handle pics. We've been taking photos with our regular digital cam, but are having technical difficulties loading them, so everything here comes from our iphone ( aka- The Precious). As the Precious does not go to the beach, the collection is, well, frankly its pretty weak. But so it goes. Here's two from, let's call it the surf board collection.

Both pics were taken in Mal Pais where we had an awesome time getting walloped by the "easy" waves. My board length is currently 7/7 which means its huge and that in the teeming waist-deep wash of MP, we were more enemies than friends- though we did have some good times together. Bruises are already gone!



And behold, a monkey type, banana-seeky.

We saw more animalitos at our hotel in Montezuma than we did the entire time we were at the cloud forest eco-preserves of Monteverde (that was yesterday). We even took a night hike and ended up in the absurd situation of trying to find, with flashlights, some small bug to FEED TO A TARANTULA. I feel like large spiders should not require my assistance.

And we were tickled to find an Eat Me! tribute in CR, because we keep the faith that Eat Me! is in fact going to go MAD GLOBAL!

Waves of Mutilation

Two days ago we left Samara and took the cheap-o public trans journey down to Mal País at the southern tip of the peninsula. It ended up taking twelve hours. Four buses and two ferries will do that, but that we ended up on a 2.4 mile trek to our hostel while carrying all of our gear was an unnecessary cosmic jousting. But hey, every day can't be a winner.

What's up in Mal País? Surfing, that's what. Yesterday we rented some boards and went out at low tide, which is about the only time that the waves on the long gorgeous beach are even potentially harness-able for us green gills (at Samara, we would surf on either side of the high tide, and those waves were smallies). Even at low tide, the waves are large and relentless. There's no floating on the board, chilling, waiting to select an attractive curl. This is mostly because there's no way we can get out past the main break due to the ceaseless passage of monster waves. So we thrash about in the waist deep water of the secondary breaks while the real surfers lace up and down the squalls in front of us, doing tricks, catching air, and at times, eating it spectacularly.

The great part is that we're actually surfing. The tough part is that the surfing comes with a price. Just getting into position to catch a wave means jumping over seven others while hoisting your board above the white water (very tiring), and the tumult of the waves means that when you fall, you often get rolled underwater like socks in a washing machine. But catching a wave is fabulous and undeniably addictive, and surely today's future bruises will match nicely with yesterday's. Surfing is fun, but it ain't no picnic.

Will post some pics later and maybe even some video...