The best little drive-through in Mumbai ...

I don't think Big Daddy's (the English name) is on Zagat or Michelin's food radar, but I think it is one of Bombay's best eats. The "restaurant" is comprised of parking spaces and curbside carts that grill up the most delectable meat/vegetable kebobs and tikkis. The preferred "tables" are car hoods which are leveled by glass bottles (see picture). The seats? Well, this is a standing room only kind of place where the napkins are the clothes on your (or your dining companion's) back. If you want to find this gem it is behind the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel in the Colaba section of Mumbai.

Gem scammed

There’s warning to travelers in the Lonely Planet about various gem scams in India. The scam essentially works like this: you get befriended my a nice Indian man (or two) who offers you fantastic hospitality at no cost to you (perhaps free beers or dinners or tours of the city). When they have you were they want you, they will bring up a business proposition that has you agreeing to carry a bagful of precious stones back to your country where you will meet with a gem person, sell the bagful of gems you have been toting, and get a stake in the profit. First you will need to leave some money for “good faith” since presumably you will have hundreds of thousands of gems. The scam is that these gems are worthless, and the money you put down in good faith, is never returned to you. I knew about this scam before traveling to Jaipur so I was prepared. What I wasn’t prepared for was how slick the operators really are. In my case, I met two brothers, Samir and Sabir. Sabir had an “official” tourist car, and he and his younger brother split driving duties. They never brought up costs, they treated me to chais (tea), they even invited e to attend their family Eid celebration. I was hooked on this family. But then they introduced me to their friend and boss, Tony Ali. This was what he called himself at least. Tony lived in a house the size of an India city block. He spoke six languages flawlessly. His family, he said, was in the jewelry trade and had been for years. He also owned a disco and some hotels. Wouldn’t I like a VIP-treated night at his disco. Wouldn’t I like some whiskey? After I said “no” a few dozen different ways, he finally said, “I have a business proposition.” Here it came. He was going to try to scam me. It clearly wouldn’t work as I was on to him. What did work, was that I got conned into thinking these twp brothers were nice and honest people. Maybe one of them is. But I know that the bond between Indian brothers means nothing goes unsaid and if one of them is working to find marks, the other is in on it too. So my scam story doesn’t end in loss of money and fake rocks, but it ends with an abrupt severing to a once promising, albeit short, friendship. It felt awful. Not because I felt I had been "had", but because I started to feel cynical to other offers of hospitality. Here is where I have a choice: close up and don’t trust, or let myself be open on the chance I will meet another truly lovely person. Thankfully, I believe in taking chances.

Shopping Secrets Revealed

Almost everything in India can be haggled. From the price of food, to taxis, to hotels; the set price is never the set price. The one exception is entrance fees to monuments or shrines. But the fact that haggling exists isn’t a secret. What doesn’t get shared often is when the best time to shop really is. It's been my experience that you can get far greater deals and have much better bargaining success if you shop in the morning. Most Indian shopkeepers subscribe to “luck.” They believe that as long as they make that first sale of the day, they will be blessed with more sales throughout the day. At one point, a shopkeeper went even lower than my “last and final offer” because he was so scared he was going to lose out on his luck if I walked away. Now that's buying power. (the photo is of a typical shopping center at night. The second best time to shop).

Cinema Paradiso

Jaipur is home to one of India's biggest cinemas, the Raj Mandir. It is an art deco monster from the outside, and the inside looks like you have been swallowed by a whale. No Bollywood experience would be complete without a hefty amount of audience participation. Babies cried. Children danced in the aisles. Men whistled and women shrieked with glee. The audience was actually better than the movie, "Aaja Nachle", translated to "Let's Dance" for those who would like to Netflix it. It didn't matter that the film was mostly in Hindi and I got lost on a couple of relatively important plot points (e.g. why did they want to dance anyway?). What I found interesting was that the film focused on a strong, sexy female who overcomes odds and obstacles (plot spoiler: she "wins" in the end) in a culture where women are often disregarded. What was neat was how the audience seemed to eat it up, so perhaps India is ready for a little female love and respect after all. Oh, and for all of the sexual tension that existed, there was no on-screen kissing. Blast!

Ranthambore National Park

Ranthambore is the only place to spot wild tigers in Rajastan. Much has been written about the countless seekers who have gone home disappointed after not seeing a single tiger. That is not my story.

On a lark, I went in search of a tiger. I booked no tickets for the safari (which usually is booked weeks in advance), and took my chances that I would get on one of the 20 seats that are released day of. My chances paid off. Big time.

After seeing monkeys (who goes on safari in India to see what you can see on the the streets?), some crocodiles, and an owl, we came across three lounging tigers. Three. Did I mention people hope to see just one? This picture cannot do justice to what I have only seen behind bars at a zoo. The beauty of the beasts are matched only by the Taj Mahal. The difference is that my pictures of the Taj came out less fuzzy.

Sisters

This is Puja and Sandoori. They live at the train station in Jaipur because that is where they said goodbye to their mother one month ago. Their mother went to Dehli in search of work and they hope she will come for them. So they wait. Puja is 12, but looks more like 7. She takes care of her baby sister who is one. I watched as Puja begged (sucessfully) for chipati (bread) and fed it to her sister. Puja says she doesn't get cold at night even though I have been chilled despite wearing two layers of fleece to bed. Sandoori has lesions all over her body. The kind that look like bed sores, but (considering their environment) is more likely to be some type of flesh eating bacteria. There doesn't appear to be a shelter of any kind for homeless children in Jaipur (a city of 3 million). With so many charitable people in the world, I am surprised that little has been done for the countless homeless girls who have been forgotten on India's streets. Perhaps it is because the charitable people don't ride India's commuter rails where these children are found. This is why I introduce you to them. They deserve a second glance. And Puja, in Hindi, means prayer.

Top Ten things to know before visiting India

There are a few things you need to be okay with when visiting India. If any of these things repel you, your visit will be unpleasant. Might I suggest Florida instead.

1. you will never hear nothing.
2. the smell of urine is everywhere.
3. you have to share sidewalks and roads with cows and what cows leave behind.
4. children will follow you, with a "hello" refrain, until you give them a couple of rupees.
5. monkeys will follow you, until you wave a stick, growl, stomp or feed them something. (if you feed them, be prepared to hightail it out of there before word gets out in the monkey community).
6. everyone has a store they want to take you to.
7. everyone knows someone who has a store they want to take you to.
8. there will never be toilet paper or towels in your room unless you ask.
9. the sound of phlegm working its way through the body and spitting is rampant.
10. other bodily function noises share in the harmony.

Once you get over this, your visit will be divine.

Cremation 101

In Varanasi, at the 'burning ghats', people are publicly cremated. The rules for cremation are as follows: you can be cremated so long as you are not a child, pregnant woman, leper, or have been bitten by a cobra. Your class decides what type of wood will be used to burn you (sandalwood is for the elite). If you are a young woman, you are draped in red, a young man is draped in white, and old people are covered in gold. The pyres are lit from an "eternal flame"; an area where logs are kept burning 24/7. A holy man will light straw from the flame and bring the burning straw to the pyre. Before lighting, he will walk around the body five times to symbolize the five elements: earth, wind, fire, air, and water. The smoke at the burning ghats is heavy. The ash and embers blow around. You are never quite sure what (or who) you are breathing in, only that you have witnessed something that feels voyeuristic. I am still coming to grips with the notion that I watched a young man, a young woman, and an elder burn before me. I do not know their names or their stories. I only know their class because of the wood that was used.

Monkeys

I think back wistfully to the first monkey I saw in India. It was in the distance and I grabbed by camera, zoomed to the max, and got a blurry shot of something that looked like a cat. That was then. Now, they are everywhere. Things cannot be left on balconies, or windows left open, otherwise the mini-humans (or, more appropriately, thieves) will creep away with what belongs to you. Or worse, they will attack. I heard a story of a man getting beaten to the ground and bitten by one of the region's bigger monkeys. Yes, they are cute when they sit with their young strapped to their undersides. They appear harmless as they carefully (almost delicately) root through garbage, but when they beat you up and take your crap, well that's just like New York City in the 80s. And here I am without my mace.

Varanasi

Varanasi, India’s holiest and oldest city, is also septic. The city is built along the Ganges River and is comprised of 80 different ghats (or areas with steps leading into the river). Ancient (feeling) architecture hugs the shoreline while smoke billows from pyres from the cremation ghats. The river, so filthy now, houses those generations past sins. Just imagining the sheer volume of people who come to this river to cleanse themselves of actual or spiritual impurities suffocates me. It grabs hold of my chest like a punch to the solar plexus might leave you gasping for air. But even still, children play in these waters. They still take advantage of what the river is giving them. It has been the most obvious showing of a word so often maligned: Faith.

The Hunt for Bhut Jolokia

It is known as the spiciest chili is the world (in fact, Guinness ranked it as such), and it can be found in one area in India. It's apparent white color gives it the nickname "ghost chili;" I just hope it doesn't disappear before I can get to it. Imagine a thumb-sized chili having the same sense of awe and adventure as the Holy Grail.

Nearly honest

There’s a bartender in Patnem name Brahma who left his family a year ago to come southward. He was trained as an electric engineer, but didn’t like spending days in a lab. So he packed up his things and left. All he had was the belief in himself that he was a “people person.” Speaking with him is how I imagine a conversation with Confucious would be. He says things like “There is no profit in lying.” And quickly follows that with “I only lie to my father.” There is humor and sadness is this. Much like how I imagine India to be.

Medicine Man

This is Ayrgun. He is a medicine man from Karnataka. He "diagnosed" my health and considered me to be of "medium-bad" health. I asked what that meant and he said I had too much fire. Then he promised to cure me for $40 USD with an herbal mix that I would take 3 times a day for 2 months. I said I couldn't carry around all of that powder with me while I traveled. So he shrugged and said, "ok, 1 month and you get less medium."

Ayurvedic Massage

I was a little scared. First of all, it is a massage I could hardly pronounce, secondly, they wanted me to strip and lie down on a wooden table that resembled a torture device (I was given a loin cloth for cover). Next I knew, two people were rubbing and pulling me simultaneously. This, to help circulation as the belief is that poor circulation is the root to poor health. Herb-scented hot oil is poured over your body and as you get tugged, you also start to slide around the table (thankfully there were no splinters!). What amazed me most was that the lead masseuse (the one who sets the pace for the other masseuse) knew within 5 minutes that I had problems with the right side of my body. Sure the bowling ball-sized knots probably gave it away, but he was able to narrow down that my problems emanated from my cervical spine. For those of you who know me well, this is the moment you should go “ah hah!” For those of you just getting to know me, your “ah hah” will come.

The Un-India

Patnem is south of Goa and is the place to go when you want to be in India, but feel like you are someplace else. Here drinking is allowed, as are tank tops and even bikinis. It is rebuilt every year after the monsoon season shreds the make-shift huts apart. Everything is make-shift. Mattresses are yoga pads, toilets are holes, but there is nothing like showering with a bucket of cold water under the stars with the occasional frog hopping through.

Ingenious

Kids in Mumbai seem to spend much of their free time roaming through the streets of Chor Bazaar with home made metal detectors. It is basically a stick with a magnet attached to one end that they drag through the littered dusty streets. After just a few minutes of watching a group of three young boys, they all came up lucky. I recall being given a store made metal detector to help pass the time on the beach as a 7 year old. I have no idea what it cost, but I am pretty sure the junk I found never made up for it. Home made has its advantages.

India's rail system

It is said that to truly understand a culture, you have t spend time on the rails. With this in mind, I navigated my way through the Victoria Terminus to get a ticket for a 12 hour train ride southward to Goa. Upon my arrival, a man was being run through the terminal on a stretcher. He had apparently fallen off the train and was run over. I assume this as I cannot fathom another reason why his leg would have been bloodied and dissected. (apologies for those of you eating while reading). I was told that this happens quite frequently as people cram themselves on to the commuter trains. While I had hoped to experience the rails the way the locals do, I also decided it was probably best for me to get a reserved seat so that I wouldn't have to fight to stay on the train. After getting on three of the wrong lines, I finally got my ticket to Goa. 6am departure time. This is clearly not a vacation.

Afghanistan revisited?

I thought I had already gone to the amputee capital of the world when I was in Kabul, but Mumbai is giving that metropolis a run for its money. As I approached Chor Bazaar, I was greeted by a triple amputee on a roller board. His one arm moved him along, and once he gathered enough velocity, he aimed himself for me and was able to wrap his one and only arm around mine. I understand why Mother Teresa spent so much time in these parts. There is heartache a plenty.

No Thank You necessary

I was out to dinner with a seemingly polite, young Indian man named Amand and he let me in on a little secret. Apparently "please" and "thank you" are considered condescending in India. I didn't believe it at first until I watched how the locals ordered their food and never used the common pleasantries. Could this be? Miss Manners must have never travelled to India. ((A note from linguist Noam Chomsky: politeness is actually built in to verb endings.))  

Welcome to Mumbai

You know you have reached Mumbai when the sounds of life are downed out by a relentless orchestra of car horns.   You know you have reached the city's vibrant center when the aroma is that of an flooded sewer. You know you are a tourist when the written cost of something is "X", but you get charged "X" plus "Y" and "Z".  But I am here in India's southern capital and couldn't be happier. Plus, on my very first night, I was approached for a massage. What I couldn't discern; however, as I stood on the sandy stretch of Chowpatty Beach, was whether I was being asked to give or receive one. In any event, I kept my hands to myself.