Thursday, January 10, 2008

home again home again lickety split

No put-puts. Lex is sad. I went back to the English guy's hotel but I couldn't find them. They got kicked out for having nine people in their room (none of who were on the bill), loud obnoxious drinking (i have often heard the english referred to as the rats of the world: they are everywhere and you can't do anything about it) and vandalizing their own vehicles in the parking lot. The management seemed pleased with itself for removing them and smug in having no idea where I could find them. I didn't have a phone number so we had to take a night bus to Bombay.

We got the best bed in the house: back of the bus, top shelf. This position increases the stomach dropping sensation as these buses go so fast down the hill that you swear the brakes are gone. I know it sounds exaggerated but I get the same feeling when I ride the Comet at Hershey Park. I slept well in spite of the zero g drops and occasional bumps that throw you into the ceiling. In fact, we slept so well that we awoke to somebody yelling loudly that we need to get off right now.

That's the worst feature of the buses (and to some extent the country): a person thinks some event has to happen right away and they're a pushy pain in the ass until it gets done, regardless of the actual need for speed. This bus could have waited the extra minute to let us disembark easily without pushing and shoving. I have seen this in a number of jobs and situations so far. Rush, rush, rush so you can wait, wait, wait.

Unfortunately, we slept so late that the bus must have passed through Colaba (touristy south part of the city), travelled all the way to the northernmost 'burbs (passing our house on the way) and returned to Colaba to boot us off. This means we had to walk 20 minutes to a train station, take a 30 minute ride on the commuter rail and then walk fifteen minutes home just to get to a place we passed twice in our sleep. Annoying. Mostly because I am the one at fault.

However, it's nice to be home. At least for me. The kids all shout when they see me and my neighbors seem happy to have me sit outside, play with their kids (not to brag but the cutest kids in the city live outside my front door) and smile at each other for lack of a common language. I no longer encounter huge delays when I leave because the kids have gotten used to me and don't need me to stop for 20 minutes every time I pass. It's nice because I can chat and play games when I feel like it but be fairlyanonymous in new parts of the city.

After walking around with Tessa all day, I see how hard it is for a blonde girl here. I have walked around with some brunettes and we get the same amount of stares that I receive on my own (still plentiful). With Tessa, everybody stares all of the time. The young annoying guys make a number of comments or try to say hi when I am standing there. She says its much worse by herself. I feel bad for her. However, she wants to be famous so this seems like perfect training for it.

She's also ready for a job to fill her days. She's currently beside me looking at agents but she already got an offer for some extra work for a fashion shoot scene that lasts for a few days. The pay is shit but she's going to negotiate for more. I also got a call today from a woman offering us supporting roles on a TV show in Assam (north-east India, a two day train ride). It'd only be for a week but I think she's desperate. We might be able to make a few hundred dollars out of it and see an interesting part of the country.

I'm playing the "I'm not really interested in this line of work" card. It works but it's also the truth. I've been dreaming about being a journalist. I'm going to start walking into English newspapers and asking for a job. Regular readers of this blog might argue otherwise (Goody, Kurt, Colin, not looking for your opinion on this one) but I think I could do pretty well as a journalist. Even the best paper in the country (Times of India) has some shit writers for many of their pieces. We'll see how it goes. Wish me luck.

1 comment:

s. said...

being a journalist is for the birds.

but, well, you know, keep me updated on how that goes. ..