Don't Read Before Eating

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Last time we saw our hero she had just changed her phone number, an ordeal which, not surprisingly, took longer and more work than one would think. And now, what could possibly be new, you ask? Well the Jewish year for one has changed. Happy 5766 to all the Jews out there!

So my mother reminded me that I haven't updated a journal in quite the long time, so allow me to update now...first off, I have internet in my apt now!!!! Well, only from 8pm-8am, but so it goes.

Today I went walking with my friend Ada Chan (from Canada) around Dadar (an area of Mumbai just south of Matunga where I live). On my way to meet her, I was struck by the smells of Mumbai. I'm not quite sure why it struck me today, I've been in a world that smells like this for over 4 months now, but for some reason today it struck me. If you have a weak stomach (which admittedly I once had), I'd recommend steering clear from any cities in India.

The smells of the street struck me as symbolic of a huge cultural difference (here's one for the list, Mr. Gillmar) between India and the States. In the States, and really in most of the western world (and lots of the eastern world too) today it is easy for us to ignore the base aspects of life. We can look the other way when we pass poverty, politely not discuss bodily functions, cover up body odor, and we wouldn't even begin to think about dead or dying animals, much less people. Not so here. Poor people are everywhere, at night they sleep out on the streets. Not one or two on the sidewalk, mind you, but communities, families of people actually out on the road. During the day, you walk past their tin, plastic, or tarp "houses" that usually have whole families (grandma, grandpa, aunty, uncle, mother, father, kids, etc etc kind of whole family) and see people standing or sitting or sleeping there. Give one poor child a paise and you've got 10 of them all of a sudden converging on you asking for 10 rupees, 50 rupees, 100 rupees. You can't NOT see them. It's impossible.

Bodily functions are out in the open too. It took me awhile to learn that when a man is squatting or standing by the side of a road, looking occupied, you don't want to look. It's even more pronounced in other areas where women (usually old, slightly crazy women) hike up their sarees and pop a squat. Adds to the smell. I don't remember the last time I walked outside and was not met with the strong smell of the streets. It's worst near the water, a fact that saddens this ocean lover. Everytime I get near a river, stream or the ocean, the smell of rotting garbage, excrement and just filth overwhelms. The water near the shore looks black or gray. Even in the daytime.

Essentially, life, all aspects of it, is pretty in your face here. At least as far as I've noticed. Sometimes India is about holding your tongue, other times it's about holding your breath, always it involves patience.

Yom Kippur was interesting here, the B'nei Israel (the Indian Jewish Community) tunes are different from any I've heard and everyone wears white. The synagogues are beautiful and the communities so welcoming, but Gila (my roommate) and I found the fast to be a difficult one. For one thing, we were staying at the flat of a lovely woman and her son (Tzipporah and Moses Malenkar). They are very observant, so much so that they did not even turn off the flourescent light in the room in which all four of us were sleeping. The window was open because of the oppressive heat and loud music from the Hindu festival being celebrated out on the streets filled the room until about 1 am when the music mercifully came to an end. Still, I found it difficult to sleep. I was sweating so much that the salt left made wiping my face sting. I fell asleep at around 4 and woke when Moses was getting ready to go to the synagogue for services which began at 5:30 am. Tzipporah, Gila and I did not leave for services until about 9 am and arrived at the synagogue not long after. The congregation is Orthodox, so we entered in the women's door and sat down in the women's gallery. The mehitzah (divider between the men and women's section) was low (too low according to Rivki, the Chabad Rabbi's wife) so we could see what went on. Services went on all day, with an hour break at around 2 pm. At around 4:30-5ish in the evening, Gila and I began to fade. We kept each other fasting (Yom Kippur is a fast day, no food, no water for roughly 25 hours: sundown to sundown) and did not break until after the concluding services. Really we were thirsty more than hungry. Heat does that to you.

Other than that, things have been going well here. I was not hurt by the earthquake here, in fact Gila and I were at our Israeli friends' apartment that day celebrating Shabbat and didn't even know about the quake until the next day when my parents called me in a panic. Of course that day I did get injured playing frisbee...typical Shaaroni-type injury. Pretty big sprain on the right ankle...but thanks to ice packs, pain pills from a doctor here (who charged me Rs 40 for his assessment aka poking my ankle and seeing where I said ouch) and my suck it up and walk it off school of thought, the ankle is on the mends and I expect to be playing frisbee again before long.

Anyway, it's bedtime....much love and all that!

With love for Internet (keep an eye out for me to be on skype), water and frisbee,
Roni

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