Written in Mumbai, India

Namaste. I hope you are all well and having an amazing day and have the possibility of an awesome weekend ahead of you.

I am still in Mumbai and just to let you all know, I have been to Bollywood, on the set darl, the desired subject of several shoots for a popular national television series - and I expect you all to treat me with the respect and awe my newly founded social standing incurs.

Well, ok, I doubt that will happen but it was fun never-the-less. Although, for the most part, incredibly incredibly incredibly boring. The novelty wore off really really soon. The series was called Jassie. From what I gathered it is about this nerdy girl with a handsome love interest (this is Bollywood after all) and some well-meaning friends. The episode shot yesterday will be screened on (nationwide) TV sometime in the next two weeks. The shooting took place from 8am to 10pm at this trendy popular club in Mumbai called "Velocity".

I was "spotted" walking down the street here in Colaba (the area of Mumbai where I am staying) by one of the many Bollywood modeling agents. Often foreigners are required for shots so they are employed to scout the tourist areas. And, to be honest, I think it was my hair that grabbed him more than anything else. Just to note, the agent was accompanied by the first openly flamboyantly gay guy I have seen in all of India. There is no "gay" in India at all (or, it is very much underground) so he is either really brave or really foolish.

My Rs500-for-the-day job (yup, I got paid) was to basically wait around for 12 hours until my scene came up. Saying I was bored to tears does not even come close to how I was feeling after the novelty of watching the big Bollywood names say their lines, or seeing how the shots were actually filmed, wore off. And my scene? Part of the crowd of Jassie supporters clapping and cheering her on, at the instigation of her new found love interest. All well, rather, uninteresting in the end.

What amused me constantly though was the efforts of all the other "extras" to get into as many shots as possible. They were constantly walking past the camera, just behind the main characters, to guarantee their face was seen. When they weren't strutting in the face of the camera, they were smsing. Cell phones are HUGE in Mumbai and every second young person you see walking down the street is moving their thumb frantically over the keypad.

Enough Bollywood. Although I am looking forward to watching my first Bollywood movie since being in India sometime - the other places I have been in India, it was not that good an idea to sit in a movie house on my own as a woman, but Mumbai is really different that way.

I have been thinking I did not approach telling everyone what I have been doing in India very logically. I have just dived in (in typically Indian style). So, here is the logic: myself and Maia (who is currently experiencing the cold of the Himalayas first hand in Daramsala - mad) came into India from Nepal. Our first stop was Varanassi. I am sure you all remember my total abject horror of what I thought of the place. Then Kajuraho, Orcha, Agra, Fatephur Sikri, Vrindavan, Mathura (the birth place of Krishna by the way - and not as much of a Hare Krishna acid trip as expected), and the amazing holy town of Omkareshwar. 

Then Goa, the tourist capital of India. We stayed at the beach of Arambol. It was pleasant just to relax but good to get out of the tourist hype. As much as I love Israeli food, when I am in India I expect to eat Indian food and I have serious issues with places that are so touristy a curry isn't even an option.

One thing I did do in Arambol (which changed my perception of Indian driving forever) was hire a motorbike-scooter-effort and drive around for the day through the surrounding area. I am sure all the locals got really annoyed and thought of me as yet another renegade foreigner on a bike but I had loads of fun.

There is a very definite pecking order on the Indian roads. That is, the bigger the vehicle you drive, the more likely you are to be able to move, for the simple reason that you have more power. Anything which has the possibility of getting in your way on your path of road space knows you are not going to stop for it. At the bottom of this road pecking order are the dogs. Definitely the dogs. Then the other animals, the pigs, goats, occasional horse. Elephants and camels do not fall into this category of course. Only a bus driver would be foolish enough to consider pushing the issue of road space with an elephant.

Next up would be us lowly pedestrians - hogging our section of road space for all its worth because we need a strategic corner with the best possible view of all traffic angles to get to the other side of the street in one piece. Or just merely walk the "pavements" (read that as the side of the "road" in a lot of cases) without hogging too much of the curb.

Ox carts and the fruit carts that are pushed (sometimes pulled) around by the fruit sellers are next. Cycle rickshaws, then bicycles, then scooters, then the motorbikes (with the four kids, husband driving, wife perched precariously on the back with at least one baby in her arms, if anyone wears a helmet, it is the husband). Auto rickshaws, although often winning more space than any other vehicle on Indian roads, are next. Normal car vehicles are followed by the rich polished 4x4s, then the smaller trucks and goods carriers, then the larger trucks. The buses are the highest of the pecking order.

Nobody, but nobody, messes with a bus.

So, it was nice to have a day when I moved up the road hierarchy, from mere pedestrian to suicidal scooter driver - zipping into any space of road I could get, even that occupied by a higher hierarchal bike. Ahh, the power...

I should mention that everything on Indian roads is subject to the cows. If a cow has decided to spend the day wallowing in the sun in the middle of the road while chewing the cud, even buses will go round it.

I escaped the tourism of Arambol for the tourism of Panji, the capital of the state of Goa. The city, as you know, was divine. At least I could get a dosa. From Panji I went to the most amazing holy town of Gokhana. The winding dusty streets, temples and pilgrims made it an interesting place to just sit and be for awhile. Myself and Maia spent New Years at one of the four incredible beaches (Om Beach) near the town. Again, experiencing almost total darkness every night. It is really a strange experience that. Very humbling.

From Gokhana to Hampi (Maia, you will have to tell me if I have left anything out), following the trail of hippies from one relaxed easy hangout to the next.  From Hampi to Bangalore - definitely NOT on the hippie trail. One massive sprawling city, mostly consisting of this maze of narrow untarred streets, lined on either side with four-storied buildings towering over the dusty corner temples. Every street had a specialty, from electrical wire to car engine parts to tailors to thread sellers, this was the place you could get ANYTHING.

Bangalore is known as the most liberal Indian city, and it is easy to see why. Couples hold hands, even if they are not married - something not seen in the rest of India. Even here in Mumbai, the social custom of not touching your partner seems to hold sway. There were loads of new cars on the road (the fact that there were cars on the road at all is a good sign the area is wealthy). There were Western-styled coffee shops, women attending university classes, women driving bikes, women in bhurkas driving motorbikes, women wearing jeans (jeans - now that was something I had not seen for a while), women driving cars. As one traveller I met pointed out, the city was wealthy because even the dogs were fat.

I even saw people in the street helping the lame cows (mostly they are just ignored) and the cows looked healthy as well. People took an effort to cut their horns and shod them and patch up their wounds. I liked that.

One of the things I found both amusing and a little (well ok, a lot) frustrating, is that Bangalore is home to "ladies clubs" and these are the only places to go weeknights if you want a social drink (or Coke) after midnight. The "ladies clubs", so named for the ladies, are the Indian version of strip clubs. Only there is no stripping, at least not on the stage anyway.

The concept is the same though. Loads of men (and a few desperate-for-a-social-evening-out Western women) sitting around circular tables, sweaty beer in hand, in a dimly lit, red wallpapered room watching the rectangular centred stage where a girl is dancing provocatively. Only she is fully clothed, and doesn't take them off. The men hand her money, which she diligently puts into the creases of her clothes - without stopping dancing.

The first club I went to like this the women were in saris, the second in Western clothes. And, in true Indian style, they don't earn the money the patrons give them. They get a set rate for the night and the owner of the club takes the rest. Typical.

From Bangalore to Mysore, another relaxed fairly stress-free city to travel. Although I did get groped twice and continually had to count my change (which was invariably short). I discovered the most amazing cathedral of St Philomena's in the city. Just incredible. I would probably rate it as the most peaceful place I have been to in all of India - and that is saying something.

I spent a day at the Mysore Palace, mostly posing for photos for the "men in black" - these pilgrims for a festival worshiping the brother of Ganesh (I can never remember his name) being held in Mysore. And they all wore black. It was kind of amusing. Mostly I refuse to let anyone take my photo here. Mainly because, with hardly any women around, it will invariably be a photo of me in a crowd of men who think it is ok, having got close enough to me to get a photo, to take some other advantages not socially acceptable in my country - or theirs for that matter. So the rule is women, children and families only. And yes, I get asked to pose for photos often. It can be really trying sometimes when all I actually want to do is see the tourist sight I came to see.

But the men in black were just these most amazing guys, no harassment at all, which is sooooo unusual.

And Chennai, the most incredibly insane city of Tamil Nadu - and the only city in India with room to expand. Now that is a scary stat. My first impression of Chennai is one I will never forget. A dirty skeletal young woman in a ragged sari, bloated stomach, lifting a small child, also bloated, onto a wooden cart, already loaded with several other children and the rest of their belongings that the young woman had packed away from the pavement where they had spent the night.

The city is a wealthy city, that scene aside, and Chennai swarmed with diversity, education and a relaxed, though intense "city" kind of feel. There were mosques (that sound!), temples, churches, universities and many many many young children walking the streets in their clean school uniforms.

I discovered the most amazing thing in Chennai, and I would like to know if any of you knew about this. There is this cathedral in Chennai called San Thome, built on the site of the tomb of St Thomas. Now, I know there are several conspiracy theories (having read most of them) about the disciples of Jesus walking from the Middle East to India (the Sri Lankans believe he made it all the way to the island) to preach the Christian gospel.

Chennai is the place where the Indian Christians claim - although that comment is so Eurocentric, just because the Catholic Church tells us something, or any other religious authority for that matter, it is not necessarily true - Thomas died. At a ripe old age. And the cathedral is built over his tomb. Which you can actually get to see - under the alter there is this little chamber and chapel where you can view his final resting place. Of course the Catholic Church has not endorsed this as the tomb of Thomas (imagine the can of worms it would open with all those conspiracy theories out there) but Catholic pilgrims from all over the world visit the site every day. It is an amazing feat of architecture as well. Truly beautiful. Opinions anyone?

The trip to Chennai from Mysore, on the bus, was definitely something I will never forget. A true reflection of Indian driving. The bus was a sleeper (with plush reclining seats, sigh...), the idea being that passengers could sleep for the ten hours it took to get to Chennai. Well, I had a "woman only" allocated seat - meaning I got to sit next to another woman - the possibility of a man deciding to get "lose hands" during the night a distinct possibility, although I really hate to think like that - which means I got to sit in the front. And so actually got to see the way the driver drove.

Chris (the really cool American guy I travelled with for a while in Sri Lanka) made the comment one day that Indian drivers drove like they were playing a video game. The game while driving at night runs like this (remembering please, there are no streetlights and this is mostly on untarred roads):

Firstly, don't waste the battery by putting your lights on. Park lights will do fine because, driving in the middle of the road, you are guaranteed enough road space to realise when you are moving off the road. When you realise, in the five metre visibility of the park lights, that there is another vehicle in front of you, hoot first to ascertain it is indeed a moving motorised vehicle (like I said before, it is up to the ox carts and pedestrians to move in the face of an oncoming bus). If there is a responding horn sound, flick your lights onto bright. The vehicle coming into the opposite direction will do the same. Then, because you now see the approaching vehicle, SWERVE. Video-game-split-second reflexes are needed for this manoeuvre so as not to scratch the paintwork of the bus.

On the subject of Indian traffic, I saw a sign in Chennai I really loved, posted on the dual-lane carriage way (the first road I can safely call a freeway in months) that runs around the city: "hurry burry spoils the curry". I think of it every time I see the driver of the bus I am on performing another near-miss Nintendo style. Who needs video games?

More logistical details: From Chennai I flew to Sri Lanka. I flew back into Chennai, then went onto the Tibetan refugee camps near Bylakuppe, then onto Mumbai. I must admit, I am missing the cows (there are no cows on the streets here, and the beggars have to make their pleading stop at your arm kind of quick - there is invariably a policemen running in their direction to chase them away). Although the Western comforts (running water among them) are just brilliant. And relaxing (or having some challenging conversations - that is aimed at you Paul) with friends is always good for the spirit.

If you are looking for some Indian surreal antidotes, I have two I can think of (it was short notice, if you give me time I can come up with a whole list). The first is the social grace of saying "bless you" every time someone sneezes.  This doesn't happen here. But trust me when I say it is so engrained in me I say it anyway, understanding full well the weird look the Asian person (for this has been since Japan) who I have just "blessed" has given me. They must think I am mad. And it is not like I don't make a conscious effort. I even make a point of noticing the person who has sneezed, thinking if I realise s/he is an Indian (or Asian tourist) person I can stop the automatic response of "bless you" in time. But no-go. My thought process has yet to catch up with the social customs drilled into me from birth.

The second is being able to eat food out of, and off of, anything, no matter what you think of the hygienic circumstances surrounding it. It is, after all, food. Almost everything here is served (wrapped) in newspaper. You will even get briyani or curry and rice in paper. Just stand still, unwrap, hold the parcel in your left hand and eat with your right. Naturally as fast as possible because other street food stall customers need your pavement space. Sometimes you get idli or samosas and sauce on a leaf, or in a leaf bowl. Again the issue of possible hygiene and pesticides is just too much to think about. Especially since it is food. So just chow down on the pavement, with other customers elbowing you for hand to mouth co-ordination space. "Shanti shanti" no problem.

It is almost time for me to meet some friends for dinner so I am off. Dinner in a restaurant - food stalls are generally for breakfast fare and snack consumption - and I might be able to get one of the Western dishes I have been craving for months (Maia - there is NO MACARONI AND CHEESE here). This is Mumbai after all.