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Beggars here come in all shapes and sizes and utilize many different tactics. The most common come up to you, speaking softly, and follow you around or tap on the window of your taxi. The most annoying are the kids who poke, grab and sometimes scratch you. The saddest are the tiny kids who don't say anything, they sit naked with genitals directly touching the dirty, wet cement, barely moving. One made us giggle for awhile though. We were walking from the Haji Ali Dargah, a very famous (and breathtakingly gorgeous) Muslim shrine that has the equivalent of a 'relic' in Christian terms. This little girl taps me on the shoulder, and in a sing-song voice (a third melodic interval, the first syllable of each word being the higher tone) and says expectantly, "HELLOOOOO! MONEEEEEEEY!!!" For a beggar, she was quite endearing.

My response to poverty has been different than I expected. I don’t feel guilty or as if I can change their situation. It is of course, deeply saddening, but I know that this is their culture and it is the way it is for countless reasons; none of which really relate to my existence. I think it is important for one to see that this exists, it certainly helps you feel gratitude and happiness in a way that heartbreak can allow you to feel real love.

That day we also saw a few more Hindi Shrines, a very interesting experience. They were major shrines but off the beaten path and not exactly tourist-friendly, nothing written in English and very difficult to navigate if you are not well-versed in the proper etiquette. I tried to do what everyone else was doing but got lost in a sea of bows, touching certain stones, putting flowers on some deities, etc. Even though I’ve received nothing but high praise about my tattoo from Hindis, I kind of felt like an asshole for the first time, amongst all these passionate and intense worshippers; kind of like a hack.

Another place we visited is "the world's largest outdoor laundrymat", called Dhobi ghat. Vast rows of cement stalls sit amongst an otherwise slum-filled area, and people work 16 hours at a time doing laundry in the same manner they have for hundreds of years. There is some color-coded system of pins that keeps everyone’s laundry in order, a huge feat considering 16 million peoples’ clothes come here and there are virtually no other laundrymats around. In a back area there were smoky vats filled with brown, rank liquids - homemade stain-lifters. I have a lot of photos but unfortunately can’t upload any till I get back.

We treated ourselves to a western treat and saw “Inception” at the theater. Very good, and a very unique experience, as we had to stand for the India national anthem before it started and sat through a cautionary notice about what to do in case of an explosion (terrorist attack).

My second Bollywood shoot was with arguably the most famous and beautiful actress in India, Priyanka Chopra. By FAR the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in real life. It was for SunSilk shampoo, and some hot shot New York hair stylist was in it, and my role was his ‘assistant’. Because I had my own role this time, I also got my own trailer. A lot of us extras sat around most of the day, we may or may not be in the final cut (but who cares, I still made a lot of money, and it was a hilarious experience). I received a few other offers to do work here but we were ready to get the hell out of Mumbai. If I’m ever down on my luck, it is nice to know I could come here and make a very comfortable living.

Unfortunately, the food on the set was not as charming as the rest of the experience. As I write here in Goa, I am still running to the bathroom every few minutes. Clark was a dear and went to the chemist to see about medicine , and he changed our transportation to a personal driver and car instead of the train in case I had to go to the hospital. While convenient, the car trip was also horrifying. Driving in India is notorious but you have no idea how fucking terrifying it is until you are in the backseat! We nearly got in 3 head-on collisions and played ‘chicken’ countless times. Car accidents don’t actually happen that often, however, because after an accident, a mob of Hindis collects around the scene and lifts the driver up in the air and beats him to a bloody pulp, often to death. The really don’t like accident! The rest of this society is so harmless and non-violent…it’s so strange to imagine that happening but I’ve heard stories over and over again from multiple sources and read about it in books. We also got stopped by the police who asked Clark if we were married, and he made the mistake of saying no. We had to pay a bribe at 3:30am after traveling for 13 hours just to get to our hotel. Bribes are a big thing here, on every level of authority. An American who has been here for 20 years said it was the only thing he really hated about living here, that corruption is everywhere and you are constantly bribing your way out of stuff, even if you haven’t done anything wrong.

My best writing is words I steal from others, as I will now. From the (excellent) book Shantaram, describing the smells of Mumbai:

[It is a] “…sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it’s the sour, stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. It’s the smell of gods, demons, empires, and civilizations in resurrection and decay. It smells of heartbreak, and the struggle to live, and of the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage.”

Now in Goa, a sweet little beach town. More soon…

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