Posting has become more infrequent due to the fact that I haven't had a lot of time to spend on the computer here.

So far things have been good. I've spent most of the mornings having tea and breakfast with my grandfather, the afternoons and evenings going out with my cousin shopping or eating with his buddies. This week I'm going to see some historical sites around Pune and at the end of the week I'm headed to the coast with my aunt on my mom's side.

Going out to eat with my cousin has been a good way to see what young people in India are like, as well as a view of Pune nightlife. My cousin was telling me that Pune has about 200 colleges and universitys, and because of that there are a lot of young people here. Every other advertisment seems geared towards youth, whether it be ads for motorcycles, jeans or possible careers. Ones I've seen all over have been for vocational schools that teach airline steward and stewardess classes, schools for learning English and a cool black and white "LEAD INDIA" ad for the Times of India newspaper.

The thought of careers, jobs and the future seems to weigh heavy on the minds of youth of this city. Exams are huge here. My cousin was telling me that people stress incredibly over these tests and that to get into any sort of a decent university you need to get higher than 85%. Damn. I'm impressed with how hard these kids study. I don't think I knew anybody who took tests this seriously back home with the exception of AP exams. How much is too much?, I wonder.

We rode by a billboard last night one the way back from watching the cricket match at a local eatery that read, and I'm not kidding "It's not just a test, ITS WAR - It's not just results, ITS GLORY"

...

Seriously? There's no way that's healthy.

We stopped at a place to get cold coffee and even on a Monday night at 11PM, the place was freakin packed. There is a LOT of people here, a lot of young people.

Closing Thought: The food here, especially on roadside stands and the like, is really tasty.

Home Life

Around 5 in the afternoon yesterday, my cousin took me on a really long walk around Poona. It was really nice, we caught up as we hiked up a small hill and then walked around the college area of the city. It was crowded, but nice - we ran into one of his friends, saw the local soccer team training and got some cold drinks at a local stand. At that moment, a small, bald boy of no more than 6 years, wearing no more than just a long t-shirt and tattered beanie, tapped me on the arm and motioned me to buy a plastic balloon. I stood there, startled - I forgot, no matter how much I feel at home in my cousin's place, watching MTV, reading comics, checking out old episodes of Family Guy and Seinfeld - I'm not in Kansas anymore. My grandfather just told me there were three bomb blasts in Hyderabad. THINGS and PLACES are different here, but PEOPLE remain the same. That's life. My cousin handed the boy his soda without missing a beat.

I've realized now that living in the States can make one soft. It's too easy living. Push the elderly in homes, the homeless in shelters or under freeway overpasses, kids in endless circles of foster care. Does merely tucking away all of society's problems actually solve anything? Is the American way of sweeping society's dust under the collective rug better? I don't think that's a question I, nor anyone else, can answer. Here, abject poverty is in your face. Kids on the streets aren't hidden away in homes. Poor elderly men and women come up and ask for money. I've realized, spending time with my cousins here, that living in American can turn you soft. You don't have to have an opinion, you don't need to care, there's no reminder of how bad people can actually live. Are there poor, homeless, elderly, starving people in California? Of course. Can we move to the burbs, build a white picket fence around our minds and think that everybody lives like we do? For sure.

After weaving in and out of people and traffic on our walk, we got back to the house. We got ready, grabbed our helmets, hopped on the motorcycle and went out on the town on a Friday night. It was still crowded on the streets, the business men and daily commuters replaced with college-age kids headed out to the bars and restaurants of the city. Apparently, there's a million of places to eat. My cousin and his buddies debated for a good 20 minutes before we settled on a place. There was 5 of us in total, and we crammed into one of the guys cars. The conversations on the way over were hilarious. Sounded just like the crew back home. Same jokes, same laid back attitude. PEOPLE are the same. I really liked hanging out with all of them, they were chill guys. We settled on a place in a college part of town. Bunch of places to eat, but the ones we wanted were closed or had changed owners. We wandered into Swiss Cheese Garden, a place in the college part of time. The homies here prefer going out to more laid-back places, I can see why. The place wasn't packed, which was good. Conversation at dinner was fun, a couple of the guys were freakin hilarious. We hopped on the bike back and I really enjoyed the ride through Pune's mostly empty streets. We grabbed some cold coffee at my cousins favorite spot and then took the long way back, which was super chill. It was a breezy night and the air was fresh. Reminded me of skating back home at night, stars above, asphalt below.

Time Lost

I arrived in Pune two nights ago. The trip from Mumbai was nothing short of spectacular. As we chugged out of the station we passed the most downtrodden, dirty ghetto slums, living in the shadow of skyscraper residential areas. Once we got out of the city and its suburbs, there was nothing but incredibly lush, green scenery. The view was like something out of an Eastern fantasy. White waterfalls gushed down misty green mountains and lone men and women tended to rice paddies as we chugged past. Really beautiful.

My uncle was waiting right outside our car as my grandfather and I disembarked. He somewhat resembles my father in appearance, and quite a lot in mannerisms, way of speaking. I enjoy his company although he is fond of giving me a hard time. I take it as affectionate ribbing and I think that's the intention.

Once we arrived at their flat in Pune, I was able to meet my cousins for the first time in about ten years. Both are in their very early twenties, and 4 years apart. Easygoing and pretty warm guys, they both were really welcoming and I am beyond glad to have them around. The youngest of my two cousins here has been kind enough to take me around a bit in Pune. This city, from what I have gathered, is considered the cultural capital of Maharastra as well as a booming IT city. At one time a sleepy road in a 'pensioners paradise', the road that my uncle's flat lies on is now surrounded by the shiny buildings and lights of nearby IT skyscrapers. The road is noisy and constantly packed with three-wheeled rickshaws, some cars and, most of all - two wheel motorcycles. My cousins told me that Pune has the most motorcycles per capita in the entire world. I believe it.

Yesterday morning my cousin took me out on his motorcycle, which looks to be a small version of an American streetbike. A 150 cc engine weaved us through traffic to the base of a hill. We hiked to the top of this beautiful little mountain, passing mandirs and people taking their morning walks. Once we reached the peak we were rewarded by an incredible view of the city. It's expanse is huge. Houses and residential buildings pop out of the lush landscape. I really enjoyed the view and it was a great introduction to this city. Yesterday evening I went to shoot pool with my cousin and one of his friends. The pool hall was a chill atmosphere, it reminded me of Sharky's back home and what me and the crew used to do last year. Good times.

Most of the rest of the day was devoted to family. I did go to a local bank with my cousin to cash a traveler's check and was a bit surprised at the service there. For such a professional, modern bank, it took a longer time than I imagined to get some Indian currency. My signature on the checks also proved to be somewhat of a problem. Damn handwriting.

Looking through photo albums and playing scrabble with my cousins and my grandfather yesterday I have realized how much I have really missed in terms of spending time with family. The photos, from my grandfather as a young man, to my father at my age in America in the 70s to my cousins as kids were all markers of a time gone by. It made me a little remorse to see a lot of photos that I could have been a part of myself, but I know thats the price as first generation kids living in America, and that its okay.

Closing thought: Call your grandma or e-mail your cousin or your poke your brother on facebook today, if you can, if you are so lucky to have the resources and the time left. Life's too short.

The Individualist

While staying in my Uncle's house for the past two days, I have come into contact with several people, on base and off who are employed in some form of servitude or another for those more well off. I was informed while driving with my uncle this morning that some of the slums located nearest to the wealthier high rises housed the servants of those more well-to-do. It appears as though an interesting symbiosis has developed.

Servants in my uncle's house include a driver, a house maid and cook, and a guy who walks the dog. All of them seem pleasant and well mannered, and I'm especially fond of the driver, an older gentleman who's appears at home careening through cars and squeezing in between bikes and motorcycles, left hand on the stick, thumb of the right hand squarely on the horn. I remember feeling uncomfortable at the thought of hired help when I was a child during my last trip. Even after gaining some more understanding of the workings and harsh realities of the world, learning about the roles that must be played by different sectors of a society, a lasting discomfort remains.

The help, along with the poor I've seen on the streets, are generally much darker in complexion and have strong Dravidian features. It's clear that race as well as remnants of the caste system has played a huge role in determining the economic fates of Indians. Like the military back home, I know, through my uncle, that the service is an organization that is a true cross section of society, where effects of regulation and code regarding discrimination, unite high and low caste, light and dark members of society. Even on the military base, however, the complexion and caste of the servants remain the same.

This morning my uncle took me to the tennis courts on base. He introduced me to the guy that ran the two small courts outside the club and his staff of teenage boys, probably a little younger than me. I knocked the ball around with him for a while, hit some serves and got some exercise, but it was all a surreal experience. The kids wouldn't even let me pick up the balls. I thought, this is something for either the super rich or super talented, and I consider myself assuredly neither, especially since I can't imagine I've played poorer tennis in months. The surreal nature of the experience was added by the fact that it was 8am and already warm in addition to the beautiful, clear view of the sea. Luxury, or something like it. Can't say I was too down with it, though. It felt so odd being catered to, cheered and clapped for a half-decent shot or lackluster serve. Give me a decent racket, 3 balls, a public court and a willing opponent and that's the tennis I'm in love with.

More about the dual nature of Indian society and the idea of servitude later. I'm leaving this afternoon for Pune, a city of about 3 million, 150km west of Mumbai to visit more family, my other uncle and my cousins who are at home there.

First Foray

A fan blurs above my head at a pace that seems much too intense for its plastic and metal housing.

Outside, I hear the gentle decay of what was my first Indian monsoon. The rain came slyly - I would not have noticed save for a passing glance outside my uncle's 9th story apartment window. I stepped out onto the balcony and was immediately convinced that this was no normal shower. The rain comes with a gentle yet firm and insistent force. It's beautiful against the background of the coast.

I woke up rather early, or really late, depending on which time zone my head is at. My uncle took me on his morning walk around the defense station. Although a bit gloomy early on, the defense area was already buzzing with activity. Officers, sailors and their wives were strolling or jogging along as my uncle and I walked past the Officer's mess, the Naval Officers Club, swimming pool, gymnasium and along the seashore. The shore here reminds me of San Diego. The visible similarities are probably slim but the calming effect the entire ocean here has on the area is a familiar feeling. Buildings here are nothing like Western armed forces stations are, many are old and faded. The encampment generally has a significant military feel, however. My uncle and I dropped into the stations mandir (temple) before stopping to chat with a couple of officers.

After my uncle left for work, my grandfather and I read the news, chatted about politics and current events here and back home. I asked a few questions about family history, my grandfather's role at the United Nations and his journeys around the world. He told me, name by name, all 28 countries he has visited and has some general familiarity with. His travels have taken him to Thailand, China, Japan, the Phillipines, the United States, Egypt, Western Europe to name a few. There's a wealth of stories there I'm sure, and I sincerely hope to hear at least a few before my stay is over.

Once my uncle's driver returned, my grandfather and I ventured out to a few noteworthy spots in Southern Bombay. Our first stop took us to the Prince of Wales museum. A beautiful old building constructed by the British now houses ancient artifacts. Beautiful works of Indian sculpture adorn the first floor. I looked with disbelief at some of the dates marked on the stone statues of Hindu gods and goddesses, the Buddha - 1st century B.C., 400 A.D. The detail on the pieces was incredible. A thought to the skill and craftsmanship required made my own hands hurt. Another thought as to the incredible age of these pieces makes them seem two million years old if they are two thousand. I stood humbled in the presence of such mythical and ancient beauty. We also took a short trip upstairs to a history of coins exhibit. Equally remarkable was the detail on these ancient trading pieces.

There was much more of the museum to see but my grandfather was tiring so we continued next door to a gallery of modern art. As we walked out a group of about 300 school kids was making their way to the Museum entrance. Blue shorts and skirts, white shirts and sandals made up their uniform. Each kid, maybe 3rd graders, was holding hands with his or her partner, wide-eyed and chatting. Freakin' cute. Indian modern art was fascinating. The use of color and shape of figures had a very Eastern feel. The coolest part: it didn't seem as though you could find any of these colors in a Crayola 16 pack. You might have to go up to the 64 block, maybe the 128. Although my grandfather related that he did not care for the abstract nature of the art, I really enjoyed some of the pieces.

We continued on to the Gateway of India. Constructed to commemorate the arrival of King George of England in 1912, the giant arch resembles the Arc de Triumph in France with an Indian twist and on a larger scale. Directly on the seashore, it sees the departure of several tourists boats and the like. The Taj Mahal hotel, a five star hotel ranked in the top ten in the world, is picturesque in the background. Being a pedestrian here is like playing frogger... with your life. As my grandfather took a quick rest on the sidewalk, I froggered my way to fetch the driver. I found him dozing in the car, parked in the shade on the side of the road. It reminded once again that people all over the world are the exact same. I felt bad tapping on the window to wake him up.

As we drove on through Mumbai, I kept an eye on the several statues we passed. Gandhi, Vivekananda stood tall atop stone pillars in gated parks. Stop and go-ing our way on Marine Drive, I marveled at the ability of our driver, as well as the ability of the other motorists and motorcyclists, to avoid accidents, pedestrians and each other. The way in which all this, the traffic, the cars, the people, the shops, the old buildings and new, all come together to form this city and country boggles my mind.

Before returning to the naval station, we stopped at a shopping center so that my grandfather could pick up some medicines. Although the pharmacy was in a crowded outdoor mall, the shops were neat and the stop was short. I still feel rather conspicuous in public. Granted, I have seen several white tourists who I'm sure catch more looks than I do, but I definitely feel as though I am viewing Mumbai from an outsiders perspective. You can take the kid out of California, but not the other way around I guess. It's also an interesting feeling being brown when everybody else is brown, too. Incidentally, my grandfather asked me this morning what hip-hop music was. I was a bit surprised that despite listening to T.I. vs. T.I.P. for most of the flight, I was hard pressed to come up with a reasonable, thorough explanation. Any suggestions?

Closing thought: India is a land of contrast. A mere 20 minutes after I began this post and the rains have already been replaced by an sunny, slightly overcast afternoon. A quote from my grandfather as we were driving back home - "Anything you can find for some certainty about India you will find the opposite is also true."He wasn't just talking about the weather. Nowhere was this more evident that the 3 km stretch to the base. On one side, as my grandfather pointed out, were the high rises of some of the wealthiest families in Mumbai. On the VERY other side of the street, less than 15 feet, were slums and small, ghetto shops. Well stocked shops, however. Anything you need you can find here. Ads for Mountain Dew and Bed Head hair products adorn the boulevards and taxi cabs. It's beyond me how this city manages to keep running and how everything is coordinated. It seems so chaotic that it might just burst.

First Impressions (Con'td)

Short nap and things have settled down around the house.

My Uncle left for his position at the naval base shortly after 8 this morning, with full Commodore's uniform on. When we drove in at around 5 AM, the guards at the gate immediately recognized and saluted his vehicle - not a bad way to roll around.

When we arrived here at the house, I was touched by the warm reception. Although it was ridiculously early in the morning, dark outside and inside the house, aunt, grandpa and dog were here to welcome me. It's odd that in this apartment at the southern tip of Bombay, 9000 miles from my comfortable spot in the world, felt like remarkably like home. It's been 10 years since I've last visited this country. A lot can happen in 10 years - in fact I'm sure a lot has - but it feels like I just saw this family 10 weeks ago.

Sunrise in Mumbai is equally noteworthy. There is something about being in a city when most of its residents are sleeping, seeing empty offices and streets, envisioning crowds and stories and places and people. As we drive in from the airport, my uncle's driver drifts from unnamed street to unnamed street as if we were out for joy drive. It felt like a mini tour of Bombay - slums, rickshaws, cabs, malls, neon signs, small shops and bakeries: it was the heart of a city just rumbling to life. By the time the greetings had finished and I had a tour of the apartment, the darkness had begun to lift. A hazy, pink and purple sun rose above the bay facing my uncle's terrace, illuminating the landscape and myriad of buildings just outside Navy Nagar - this was India.

Navy Nagar, the Indian defense station in Mumbai, appears to be somewhat of a well-kept, quiet haven in this unruly, crowded and cluttered world. Through the armed gate, trees and lush wildlife decorate the grounds - structures and plant life seem born of the same earth. A bugle call drifts through the window as Army recruits in white shorts and shirts preform physical training exercises in the distance. A lone lighthouse to the in the ocean denotes the southern most tip of Mumbai.

Across the bay, however, a jagged skyline can be seen in a haze. Countless buildings dot the background, as dozens of skyscrapers decorate the foreground. As I laid down after a shower to take a nap at the insistence of my family, I thought about this city of 15 or 20 million people, which led me to the thought of this nation of 1 billion. How each one has face and a story. I drifted in and out of sleep as a maid cleaned the room and adjoining living spaces.

Closing thought: It's humid but tolerable. My hair has never been softer - it lays matted on the top of my head - combs, water have no effect. Just breathing makes me drowsy.

Transit, First Impressions

My flight to Taipei, Taiwan was scheduled to leave at 620 PM from San Francisco International. Leaving Sacramento at 1 Pm was more than adequate. Guess not. Incredible congestion flooded Highway 80 West from Berkeley all the way to the airport. Felt like India and I hadn't even stepped in an airport. Long story short, my folks and I parked the car in a split second decision and took the BART into SFO arriving at 540 PM. Sure that I would miss the plane, I sprinted into the airport so that, if nothing else, at least I would cause a scene of such proportions justifying the drive over. Incredibly, the EVA Airlines counter was still open and I was the last passenger through. Hell of a way to start a trip around the world.

I got on EVA airlines and got the window seat next to an elderly Taiwainese (I'm assuming) couple. For the next 12 hours, I thought of them in my mind as Airplane Granpa and Gramma. They nudged me awake during mealtimes and somehow we coordinated the trips to the airplane lavatory.The guy seated RIGHT behind me was carrying aUCSD book bag, you know one of those flimsy-looking yet sturdy yellow plastic ones. I knew then that this part of the trip was going to be OK. Got some sleep and watched a few movies on a tiny screen. Most of the crowd looked to be Chinese although there was a good group of Indians on board too. Families and couples mostly though I noticed a few other single brown travelers.

Arrived in Taipei and made myself at home in the airport. Looks like a beautiful little island and it's too bad it was nighttime because it seemed to be a pretty place. Got on the next flight, which was almost all Indian, with a spattering of fellow Asian travelers. 6 hour trip inbetween two single Indian dudes, made conversation with one, a nice, quiet IT guy out of LA who comes to India to visit Goa almost every year. When we got off the plane he was a really big help as he directed me through immigration. He let me borrow his red pen, which I found out was unacceptable to the Indian beauracracy, after standing in line for immigration. The last I saw of him he was getting his bag searched by customs - I still have his red pen. I really hope everything works out for him, he was my first guide through the first moments in India. I don't think I'll ever forget him. Customs was fine for me - I guess they didn't care about the almonds.

My first impression of Mumbai was muggy, hot, vibrant and beautiful. Granted, I arrived at 4 AM and my uncle was standing right outside when I got out, but the city was still there. The streets on the hour ride home were mostly deserted - our driver didn't stay in his lane at all and nobody else did either but I figured that had little to do with the time of day or lack of traffic. The city was dark and I struggled to make outlines of buildings, shop names and streets.

I'm resting comfortably after seeing my uncle, aunt, grandfather and family dog (Scooby, who I call Scoobs). More about Navy Nagar and sunrise in Mumbai later.


Closing thought:

EVA airlines wasn't too bad, and it was pretty good for the price. Just be prepared to hear a LOT of Chinese. I'm good for a few weeks.