I am so happy to be writing you from the Pick Up Cybernet Cafe, just around the corner from the Bentley’s Hotel, where I am currently staying. There is some competition for my hotel business, but I think I’ll stay put. Bentley’s is clean and peaceful. Out front, Alagar-Jhon has also offered me his cab for the day. I’m headed shortly to the Tourist Office first to get a map and my bearings, so he may get an opportunity. I will be hiring a guide to tour through Bombay today, but perhaps not Alagar-Jhon (though he has promised to come for me anywhere). His English is not the best.

This was by far the best intercontinental flight I’ve ever made. Perhaps the extra nine hours gives you a better chance to get adjusted. Though I was an absolute wreck in Tokyo. I was up relatively early this a.m., had my toast and tea, and now (a bit late) I’m out and about. My clothesline is up, but my wickable pants did not dry overnight. It is rather damp here. But not raining. It’s a lovely day, really. Like New Orleans in May. The only reminant of the flood that I can see is a rush on antibiotics (on the news–I have a TV in my luxurious room at the Bentley’s). And I’ve got plenty of drugs.

A few notes (paraphrased) from my journal so far:

8/3/05
Sugar has finally been caught and taken to the vet. I hope the cat gods punish her for this (AP, perhaps the Episcopalians can do something here). Gran and I have spoken and she’s given her blessing for the trip at last. It’s an auspicious sign.

At the airport, I only met one person so far. A French schoolteacher who seemed very nice, but headed to Paris. [Ha! On an even more personal note, I was mistaken for an Indian woman at the airport (it was dark) and then a French woman this morning. After the Lebanese incident in London, I feel comfortable that I do not stick out like an "ugly American" for those concerned about that. In a separate incident, I did speak to someone in French last night, but I have no idea why--maybe I just needed _some_ foreign language? I find myself thinking in French too--quelle bizarre.]

8/4/05
On the plane. Vegan food agrees with me. I had the most amazing apricot curry on the plane. Unbelievable. I was not prepared to be in Bombay at the airport gate, however. I felt very self-concious and started putting on more clothes right away. Several of the women had on the most beautiful saris–really elegant. The aesthetic is so compelling. I found myself wanting to part my hair down the middle and brush it (ha!). I was one of only a half-dozen non-Indian women on the flight. According to the captain, Mumbai is mostly dry–I will stay there for three nights at the hotel then take an overnight train to Hyderabad. Bad timing for Ellora and Ajanta–they are closed on Monday. Maybe after Hampi and Murud.

8/5/05
The Mumbai airport was a bit bewildering–in fact the entire experience getting to my hotel was like swimming through jello. Partly because it was a new airport for me, but it took advice from no less than six officials to get me to the taxi stand. The car from the hotel wasn’t there, so I got a pre-paid cab. Then I couldn’t find the cab itself. Wandering around a bit in the dark, looking at the plates (I did have the plate number), I asked (again) several people, and finally found my cab–with no driver. We met up at last, and set off. There were occasionally lines in the road, but no one felt constrained by them. Mostly a system of honking and close maneouvering kept us all going.

Squats lined the road from the airport. Made up of jumbled together wood and metal, they were a sort of tragic mosaic. I could see into some of them as we passed (20 mph from airport–the autorickshaws were lapping us) and there were several that were quite nice inside. They didn’t seem foreign at all for some reason. Nothing did. Like parts (again) of New Orleans if things went downhill.

Once in Colaba, the driver had trouble finding the hotel. He and I were not really communicating–whoever said everyone speaks English lied. I tried my Hindi out, but it was too little too late–or perhaps the wrong language altogether. Literally, sixteen to twenty roadside consultants later (they came from everywhere as soon as we stopped–at 2am in the morning), we discovered we were only a block or so from the hotel.

Now, I’m off to start my day. Hope you are having a lovely one.