Miss Adventures

Hey…while I’m working on the blog, I thought I’d register my happiness at the news that it looks like DC will get baseball after all. Hoorah!

So, I won’t be there for the initial excitement. But, that’s okay. The Expos’ first year in DC will probably be hard. Plus, the team is currently in LAST place in the NL East…dead last and DC just go together. It’s perfect.

I’m still not too keen on the name the Washington Expos, as I’ve mentioned before. And, I hear that those who bought the Senators way back in 1971 own those naming rights and will not sell them. So, maybe we should go with the Washington Grays, the name of DC’s former negro league team.

All of my advocating for a team will be for naught if they change the team colors to teal and puce or try to rename the Expos something like the “Sting” or the “Raptors.” Yes…those are WNBA/NBA names. I actually don’t hate some of the new-fangled baseball names like the Devil Rays or the Diamondbacks. Couldn’t care less about the teams. But the names aren’t that bad.

What I really hope is that the team keeps its official website in English and in French, just to piss off all those anti-”Old Europe” types. That would be icing on the cake.

I think Slate’s Seth Stevenson is one of the best writers out there: hilarious, concise, and a with a sarcasm that I can appreciate. He’s most famous for writing the webzine’s Ad Report Card, which is probably the only column that I read regularly. But now he’s gone and stolen my mojo with his new Well-Traveled piece:

Trying Really Hard to Like India

In all seriousness, his journal entries so far are dead-on correct. I’ve been building up to address the poverty that I see every day in Mumbai, but was waiting to compose my thoughts. Plus, of course, I don’t want to scare anyone from coming to visit me. But here’s a little slice of my daily views and dealings with the everyman outside of the gates.
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Alternative names for today’s post:

Taj Mahal, Schmaj Mahal, or
So, This is What One Million People Looks Like

Alas, the days of Ganpati 2004 are over, after an exuberant night of immersions, marigold tossing, and general revelry. The crowds were immense, estimated at 1 million with about 35,000 cops standing guard. Sounds like a lot of people, right? But really it’s only about 1/17th of Mumbai’s population. Claustrophobes would not do well here.
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Hello. Mumbai really can be too much fun. We managed to find some clubs that the cops didn’t shut down at 1:30. Needless to say, I have a raging headache this morning.

But, I’m not too tired to read the news! First, a couple of very interesting India-related articles I read this week:

S. Asia struts on UN catwalk
Hitler’s Secret Indian Army

Good baseball news this week, too! Looks like DC might be getting a team (woohoo - deal with it, Angelos!) and the Yankees are doing their post-season thang again. Yay. I’m happy even though I haven’t seen a single baseball game in over a month.

Oh…and another baseball article I really enjoyed from George Vecsey:

A Myth That Should Not Be Perpetuated

I’ll write more about Mumbai later when my head stops aching - maybe between overs of today’s match-up between England and the West Indies in the ICC. Gotta love the cricket.

Every night of the past week has been set to a soundtrack of tablas and cymbals, with groups of men, women, and children dancing to the beat on the way to immerse Ganesha. Despite the heat and humidity, it really feels like Christmas, as there are lights strung up over roads, vendors selling holiday snacks, and a real sense of joy among kids. In fact, taking a tour of the Ganpati - the idols in the image of Ganesha - is a bit like touring Nativity scenes in December.

This year, Mumbai’s Ganpati range in size from two feet to about thirty feet tall and are mostly made of clay - so they’ll break apart in the sea - but some are still of plaster of paris to environmentalists’ chagrin. A resident of a neighborhood in the Opera House district told me that his idol took about 10 weeks to construct, at a cost of about $2,000 (92,000 Rs.). Other idols, like the ones that people have been wheeling around on wooden carts, probably cost less than $100, but people obviously put in as much as they can afford. More than half of the people who live in Mumbai live in dire conditions making less than $1 per day, so an elaborately colorful, relatively inexpensive Ganesha statue is a real sacrifice. You can’t really fault them, either, if their Ganpati are usually made of plaster of paris, a cheaper material.
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Admittedly, I haven’t been the healthiest of eaters since arriving in Bombay almost a month ago. I’ve eaten well, of course, but I’ve also drawn a complete blank about what I used to eat back home. You see eggplants, tomatoes, and spinach at the market, but your context changes. At the moment, eggplant parmigiana seems impossible to make - where do I get mozzarella? where do I get good e.v.o.o.? Basil?

It’s all available here. In fact, I know it is because I had pureed white bean soup with porcini mushrooms and a slice of snapper on a bed of polenta with tomato coulis at Indigo last week. It is one of the most expensive - and trendy - restaurants in Mumbai, but we still only spent about 20 bucks per person, including drinks.

I’m also feeling lost because my kitchen tools haven’t arrived yet. I’m missing a good sharp knife, a blender, my stand mixer, TONGS. What did I ever do without tongs? It’s useless to buy those things here because I really don’t want to duplicate. So, for the moment, cooking is difficult.

Of course, what do I care? One of the pleasures of living in India is having a maid. Ours cooks for us every night (if we want her to), and she does it well. My problem is figuring out what her repertoire is. At first, she made only very mild, very bland dishes, such as roast chicken and vegetables. Then, we told her that we also like Bhartiya khana - Indian food - so she has stuck to that. Frankly, it’s quite amazing that I come home to a freshly prepared Indian meal every night. There’s always daal, rice (yellow or white, but always perfectly cooked), and typically a vegetarian dish or two. I’m especially fond of the peas and paneer. But I’m ready for some variety - and am longing for the dog-eared cookbooks that I used to consult each night.

I’ve always thought that variety was the spice of life….here, it’s more like spice IS the variety.
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Living in USA/Europe-cable-free zone can really change one’s priorities concerning television. Do I watch the Man U.-Liverpool match or Dubya addressing the UN? As it’s a case of my future safety, I end up watching W on the BBC. He looks dapper, I’ll admit, wearing a royal blue tie. He’s not at all in his “bring it on” mode. In fact, I think he’s addressing AIDS and “human dignity.” Kudos.

But, forgive me if I go on a little political tirade for a moment.

Homeland Security is one thing. In fact, I was more than ready to leave the States, thanks to daily Orange alerts and whatnot. Historically speaking, Washington and New York are the center of the bullseye in many ways. But, when you’re living abroad and the only news that’s filtering through is from Christiane Amanpour, you start to worry about your safety as an American, no matter if you’re in Istanbul or Ile de France.

Certainly, there are more Americans in America than are living abroad. But I can’t help but think that the Americans that are most at risk are those who are living abroad. I’m working on my absentee ballot right now and I hope it goes through - in favor of Kerry (why mince words, you know?) - because I feel that a Bush win could put Americans abroad at peril. Just an opinion. Still, I think that more countries will be apt to strike at the U.S. because of a “perceived threat” (i.e., lots of fingers on the button), than willl be towards an America that works through its fears and problems diplomatically. Hey…Americans aren’t the first to think up the “preemptive strike.”

So, when you vote, why not think of lil ol’ me out here - a sore thumb amongst many unsore ones, who’d like to remain friends with people who haven’t the same background as me but have the same values.

Can’t we all just get along and take out our grudges in soccer/cricket matches?

Oooh..oooh! One more political thing before I go. Please read the Ny Times article on genetically modified grass! This is the kind of crap that people in Chapel Hill, NC have been screaming about for years, and it’s just now in the Times. People…this has enormous environmental and political implications.

My two cents….

Not a whole lot of time for me to debrief you today, as I’m writing just before heading off to work. Nevertheless, I wanted to send you a few pics that I captured last night of some of the Ganesha idols in the neighborhood. They are incredible! The pictures can not begin to capture the glitter and ornamentation, plus the web doesn’t allow you to inhale the incense that accompanies the Ganpatiyan (

So again I find myself in the right place at the right time with the launch of the newest tome of nonfiction on Bombay entitled Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found. It’s a book I read about in the September Vogue before leaving, so I was sure to go to the book reading and signing at the Kemps Corner branch of Crossword in Bombay.

Judging from my first glance at the first chapter and from the readings at the event, I know I’m going to enjoy this book, even if it does mean investing some serious time in reading all 560 pages.

Suketu Mehta, the author, invited two actors to read passages from his book tonight. And, despite some uncomfortable moments caused by beeping cell phones and a rush hour traffic jam outside the thin windows, the readings went quite well. Kitu Gidwani and Rahul Bose did the honors.

Some passages I enjoyed included the one on India being the “country of the ‘no’; the Powertoni chapter, which highlights the 1992-1993 Muslim-Hindu riots and was the original kernel for the book as an article in Granta; and a long chapter, not yet sure of the name, that looks at the Bombay underworld and the Hindi slang that goes with it. “Uska kam kiya,” for example, can mean “I killed him” or “I worked for him,” among other things. Looking forward to reading that passage closely.

Mehta told the crowd of about 50-100 people (there are so many people in this city that my crowd number perspective is kind of warped) that it took him 2.5 years to research the book and 3 to 4 years to write. After a question from an audience member asking Mehta, whose family moved to New York City in 1977 and who returned only several years ago to live and do research, confessed that it is possible “to go home again,” but one must leave first to gain perspective. He likened “staying put” to a frog in a pot of boiling water: it notices changes, but only gradually.

With that, I’m thinking that I may be writing more and more about Washington, Rome, and some other places that are long gone but still on my mind. In the meantime, I’ll be putting together some more tales about Ganesha - great pics are on the way!

I hope all of you in the States are enjoying the Yankees/Red Sox weekend. I see the teams split the first two games, so hopefully Mussina and the Yanks will be able to pull off one more win today. I’ve been praying to Ganesha (also god of removing obstacles), so Pedro, Millar, Ortiz, and the others should worry. Come on, Ganesha…I’m counting on you.

In my world, I’ve got my own little rivalry to look forward to this afternoon. Anthony and I have been watching tons of cricket - if it’s not live, then there’s always some rebroadcast somewhere - and we’re starting to figure out the rules. Wickets, runs, bowlers…it’s kind of fun. Anyhow, India and Pakistan play each other today at 2:45 - about an hour or so from when I’m writing - and it should be quite a competition. Not sure if we’re going to try to head to a sports bar to watch or if we’ll just watch at home.

Nevertheless, since I won’t get to enjoy watching Jeter and Bernie, I’ve found a new favorite player to root for. Check out Harbhajan Singh of the Indian team. He’s been dubbed the “Turbanator” and it’s a trip to watch him play.

By the way, cricket commentary is also quite hilarious, and it almost has to be because the games are so long. We were watching a replay of a recent game in the ICC tourney between India and England, and England made a mistake (took off running when they shouldn’t have, giving India a chance to knock down their wicket).

“That’s too bad for the England side.”
“Yes, but who the hell cares if you’re an Indian. I say, who the hell cares.”

Can’t you just hear the droll British? Anyone for a Pim’s?

Okay. So I did it. I haven’t been here more than three weeks, and I got this outrageous craving for a burger today. I think it’s because I was emailing my former colleagues at the Diner and it got me thinking back to the hundreds of burgers I ate and/or served while there.

I hate it. It’s terribly American - aka gauche - of me to order a burger in the land of the Holy Cow. And, for god’s sake, it’s Friday. Then again, I’m not Hindu, nor am I Catholic. And, my many attempts at pure veg eating have failed because of my weakness for hot dogs and cured meats.
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I couldn’t be in Mumbai at a better time than now, just before the big Ganesha Festival. “Ganeshotsav” is a ten-day festival that starts tomorrow, September 18th. The purpose of the festival is to worship Ganesha, the elephant-headed Hindu god of prosperity.

Bandstands, banners, and lights are going up in every neighborhood around the city. This festival is celebrated throughout India, but is biggest in Mumbai. The initial energy surrounding it feels like a combination of Mardi Gras, New Year’s Eve, and the 4th of July in Washington, DC. Thousands of people turn out for event. And, as the new Time Out Mumbai puts it, “peace and quiet are banished for ten days.”

Traffic is supposed to be horrible, too. The point of the festival is the submersion of idols of Ganesha in the sea. Submersions are staggered, happening one-and-a-half, five, seven, and ten days after the beginning of the festival, and are preceded by parades and revelry in the streets. The big submersions happen on Chowpatty Beach, and it’s supposed to be unbearably crowded near there for the next week.

At this time, I know very little else about the Ganesha Festival, but I will certainly keep track of it starting this weekend. I’m definitely keen on finding my own little Ganesha idol, so I may go on a quest for that later today. Gotta get in the spirit, you know?

So, this snack company’s slogan is “Great taste that’s a hundred years old!”

I can’t help but be reminded by my friend Lou pointing out the German beer purity law - the Reinheitsgebot - and the fact that it dates back to 1516. It was practically the Middle Ages - how pure could that beer actually be??

Are you serious? You can’t be serious?

Marion Barry is in DC government again?

The immortal words of Chris Rock:
“Don’t smoke crack. If you do you won’t grow up to be anything”
“I can be mayor!”

Well, now you can also be a councilman!

Bombay didn’t see much of me today, as I needed to get down to business of updating my web site, getting my email and computer streamlined, etc. I finally sat down and learned Net Objects Fusion so I could update my web site. The color scheme isn’t at all like my blog, so this will have to be changed soon, too. Please let me know if you like it, if graphics aren’t coming up, etc., so I can finally put this thing to rest.

http://www.missadventures.com

Thanks, all!

This weekend was exhausting. It was time to get out and explore some of the city, so that’s what we did, even in light of my tummy’s protests.

Saturday was spent in Colaba, the neighborhood at the south end of the Mumbai peninsula. You can buy fresh fish and produce from the Sassoon Docks, but we arrived much too late for that. Next time.

Colaba looked much like the rest of the city (read: in need of a good coat of paint), but it seemed a bit more like a neighborhood, with plenty of little cafes, tea and pastry shops, and some stores. Also in Colaba are the boutiques of the Cottage Industries Exposition, a sort of co-op for high end Indian crafts. Rugs, jewelry, brassware, shawls - they were all there, and quite pricy. What do you know, but Clinton (yep, Bill) was in the shops last year or so. There’s a different photo of him in all three shops checking out the goods. Apparently, he bought a very expensive rug. Good for him.
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I live not far from one of the more eerie landmarks in Mumbai. Unfortunately, because I am not a Parsi, I will never get to visit the Towers of Silence.

The Parsi (aka, Zoroastrian) community fled religious persecution in Iran in the 9th century and came to India. Only now am I beginning to learn more about their faith, but I do know how they bury their dead: in the Towers of Silence.

When a Parsi dies, his or her body is sent to be “buried” in the ToS, where, over several weeks/months, the body is picked apart by vultures. To think of it is absolutely fascinating! I’m sure that’s why the Parsis forbid anyone but other Parsis to enter into the community where the ToS are located.

Apparently, after the body has been picked apart, it eventually travels down the chute, or tower. Not sure what happens after that - it’s a bit of a touchy subject, and not one that I’d want to bring up during cocktail hour.

I’m not sure where the Muslims and Christians in Mumbai bury their dead, as I haven’t seen any cemeteries anywhere. Of course, Hindu tradition states that bodies are burned in a funeral pyre. And, you know, thank god for that. I can’t imagine where in this overcrowded country you would put a cemetery (especially as the population has surpassed 1 billion), and the monsoon rains wouldn’t help the situation.

You can’t even see the Towers of Silence from the road in Mumbai, only the road up to the hill where they are. I like to imagine that this one sort-of decrepit building is a wing of the towers, especially when I see birds hovering over it. It’s a morbid thought, I know.

Another thing, though, that is touchy about the ToS is the fact that the vulture population is on the decline because of pollution. Apparently, the vultures aren’t “doing their job” like they used to, so those who tend to the ToS are having to move things along, as it were.

Not too much going on today, as I’ve got a case of Delhi Belly - or so they call it. Luckily, medicine is super cheap here. I paid a little less than $2 for a series of antibiotics and some vitamins. It’s a real shame what a rip off prescription drugs are in the U.S. Can’t we do something about that??

Anyhow, I happened to get a very talkative cab driver today on the way back from the doctor. He didn’t speak much English, but knew enough to say “Bill Clinton is a very good man. He helps people.” All the while, the man was tying this in to a whole monologue about his sick mother and the helpful man in Andheri (a suburb/neighborhood) who is letting the driver stay in his home rent-free. The cab driver started crying about two or three times - it was so sad. Still not sure how Bill Clinton came up, but it was interesting, indeed.

Clinton is so totally revered here. In fact, he was supposed to be here for a book signing soon, had he not had the heart operation. There are stacks and stacks of books on Clinton and Hillary at the bookstore. It’s almost as if he’s the president right now. If only….

Speaking of books, the Da Vinci Code is HUGE here. All of the street children are selling bootleg copies of it, and they’ll come up to your cab if you’re stopped at a light and try to get you to buy it. Sad thing is, I don’t yet know how to say in Hindi, “Sorry, kid, I already own it.”

I think that one thing I will need to get used to in Mumbai is that random festivals will spring up without any notice. Take, for instance, Janmashtami, a celebration in honor of Lord Krishna’s birthday.

I was awoken on Tuesday morning by a procession of young men on the adjacent street banging drums, singing, etc. Bands of men (and mostly young boys, really) from every neighborhood donned their neighborhood colors and went around building human pyramids (reminded me a bit of that Catalonian tradition) to try and reach a pot of butter that had been strung up high above the street. Apparently, such antics were akin to those of Lord Krishna, who, I hear, was a jokester and the Casanova of his day.

Needless to say, traffic was terrrible on Tuesday. But I did manage to get the above shot of the boys riding around in a Goods Carrier (call it a truck or lorry if you will) on their way to the next butter pot.

The next big festivity that I know of is the Ganesha Chathurti, a 10-day celebration in honor of Lord Ganesha. It’s supposed to be wild. I don’t doubt it.

Hopefully, I have already missed the festival called Naga Panchami, which celebrates cobras. My guidebook lists that it occurs in August/September, just like Janmashtami. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I can avoid that one.

Over the weekend, we went to a hill station outside of Mumbai called Matheran. Indians like to travel to these hill stations high in the mountains to breathe in the fresh air and escape the heat of the city.

Matheran is the closest hill station to Mumbai. And, were the roads outside of town a bit better, we could have reached there in about an hour. Instead, it took about two hours, through suburban slums, past random socialist-era factories, and in the middle of the morning rush. Although we were traveling in the opposite direction from most of the buses and rickshaw-wallahs, traffic was pretty bad. We had to keep the windows rolled up in order to avoid inhaling a thick cloud of diesel fumes.
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