Do you feel lucky?

Well... even though I wanted to post an extended article on indian food, i think i will keep it laconic by posting this video, showing exactly how I felt before exploring a new star of the Indian gastronomic galaxy!
Enjoy!

Rolling Stones

Weirdly enough this is the opening story of my adventures in India. However, I decided to post it now, because it turned out to be the closing chapter as well. And btw, yes,  I am not in India anymore. I left one month earlier than expected. Read and you'll find out why...

June 16th (day 2)

Today was a surprise; an unfortunate one. I woke up at about 10:00-11:00, and I had a minor annoy in the stomach, so I thought directly that this is how  diarrea  that everyone was talking about feels like. Strangely enough though, I had no need to visit the bathroom. Therefore I decided that this was just a signal of my organism saying: “dude I’m hungry”. Very well self, I thought, and I dressed up and took a small walk trying to find a decent place to eat. When I finally ended up in a European/American feel-like cafeteria, the pain in the stomach had already begun to be super annoying. I ordered immediately, and opened up my laptop to see if I could get any network. By the time my Indian sandwich and cappuccino were served, the pain was unbearable and I started to panic. The people around should definitely think that I was some kind of drug addict. I was sweating like a pig, my whole body was shaking and I was breathing heavily. In the meantime the monsoon had arrived. A heavy rain was wiping the cafeteria windows and all the hobos and beggars found shelter under the cafeteria tent.  A woman was changing her baby child soaked clothes right in front of two girls, who were enjoying their cappuccinos. Me, I never touched my coffee or sandwich. The pain was intolerable, so I paid the bill, bought a bottle of water and headed back to the hostel. I laid on the bed hoping that the pain will go away, but in vain. So I called a guy from the office, called Pranav and explained him my situation aking him where is the closest hospital. He told me that he would come and pick me up. Ten minutes later I decided to just go and find the closest clinic myself. Luckily enough there was one down the street just five minutes walking from the hostel. By the moment I laid on the patient bed, I was soaked in sweat and unable to manage the pain. The doctor examined me and told me that there was a chance of having kidney stones. The fans of the “Friends” tv-series could not but realize the irony of this incident.  An Indian doctor saying  his Mediterranean patient: “It’s kidney stones”.  Exactly like the episode where Joey is told that he suffers from kidney stones. At that point Pranav arrived in the clinic, and made all the arrangements with the doctor the bills and everything. From that moment and on Pranav became more or less my unofficial guardian. Later that morning, when the pain went away, he took me to Hinduja Hospital, the place where I hanged out the most while living in Mumbai. After some tests and examinations, the doctor of the emergency also diagnosed kidney stones and suggested I should see a urologist as soon as possible.

In a nutshell, after visiting Hinduja Hospital more than five times, my 6mm kidney stone became much more confident acquiring the respectable size of 9mm by the end of July. That was big enough to bend my will to spend the rest of the one month I had left in Mumbai, and fly back to Athens. I landed back home on July 29th after a short meeting with Indian bureaucracy,  that managed to keep me two more days in Mumbai. However, I am not complaining about this, as I had the chance to use the extra time and go around Collaba and Bandra together with Neha and the rest of the people from the office, and have a great time!

Right... this is another chapter that I ll talk about in another post... Now, let me tell you how the stone story ends. The very next day of my arrival here in Athens I went to see a doctor , who found out that I had not one but two kidney stones (the second one was a coward bastard hiding behind his brother). I had the stones removed the very next day, and just yesterday (Aug 17th) I also had the "pig-tail" (google it to see why it is called like that) they placed during the first operation, removed from my kidney. And that would conclude my rolling stone story. Right now I am doing some tests to see why I had a kidney stone in the first place. On the other hand, for those who think that everything happens for a reason, I am obviously loosing my time...

Ahmedabadians

https://plus.google.com/photos/102391332794481569637/albums/5761201749983863377?authkey=CPbEqqzdoaaeKw

Monthly Issue

It's been already one month in Mumbai. I think I am starting to get used to it. You know, this is the sad part of the story. I think one needs a couple of months to say that he's been fully acclimatized to this city, and this is exactly the time when I ll have to leave. I have managed to do only two trips so far. Ahmedabad and Pune. I need to see more. But this country is huge, the destinations too far and the time so short. Too many things to do, too many miles to go, too little time to spend. There are so many place I d love to see: Elora Caves, the Taj, Delhi, Chandigarh,  Udaipur, Goa, Southern India, even Mumbai itself. The city is so huge and I haven’t seen many places yet. This weekend I decided not to leave town.

Mumbai is a very diverse city; a real metropolis. Slums and luxury towers, homeless and corporate businessmen, they all share the same busy streets with the distinct smell of garbage, coriander, curry and soaked earth. I hear people say that Mumbai is tough, even for Indians. It is a place that embraces everyone, as long as you can handle the city itself. You can ride the local train and pay 5 rupees, or you can ride a cab for the same distance and pay 70. You can eat a full meal in a street kiosk for only 30 rupees or try the restaurant right behind it and spend more than 500. The city accepts everyone, but not everyone accepts the city.  

This weekend I ll try to visit the national park in Mumbai, a huge area at the north edge of Mumbai, about an hour away from my place. Then I ll hit Collaba, and South Mumbai, where the heartbeat of highlife lies. Mumbai is a city found by British, therefore, not a regular Indian city. I was told during my first days here that Mumbai resembles New York, and that souned so wrong to my ears at the time. Now, I can see why. It is because, the same way New York is not a typical US city, Mumbai feels like nowhere else in India. Mumbai is an entirely contemporary metropolis that owes its fame and glory not to the monuments of a past civilization but to those of development and growth. There is no historic Mumbai, no old city. The only anachronistic ambiance  you get in Mumbai is the absurd story of the colonial times.  Everything was built after the second half of 18th century.  And the whole city still feels like a big construction site. Enormous developments are going on throughout the city. Mumbai is growing fast. Today the population has already reached the insane number of eighteen million. Think about it. That’s eighteen with several zeros on its tail.  And in some decades this number will only be a romantic memory of the past (!).

Some economist was comparing India to China as emerging global superpowers. Using the popular tale, he described China as the rabbit, and India as the turtle. If this is referring to the speed of growth, and after witnessing the speed of the turtle, I think what is going on in China right now is just scary. My friend Aditya who just got back from Nanjing, confirmed my assumption in the darkest colors. However, I believe that the economist was referring to the endurance of what is currently happening in India. That is to say, Indian economy may not follow the pace of China, but eventually it will prevail. Well, only time can tell.

HORN OK PLEASE

The first thing you expect to experience in India is the notorious traffic and the unique Indian driving style. And trust me, Mumbai will not let you down. Driving is so on the edge, that navigating through the streets of Mumbai, feels like a constant collision in the making. The city lives in the absolute boundaries of entropy. But miraculously, nothing ever happens. Cars, buses, cabs, motorcycles, bikes and people, they all become one heterogeneous crowd that manages to share the city.

However, in a city of eighteen million people vehicles and people are on the move, around the clock. And Indians are not exactly the most disciplined people you will encounter. That means for example that it is impossible to apply the western rules of savoir vivre and allow every pedestrian to cross the street whenever they feel. That would simply paralyze the entire city. On the other hand, drivers have to be aggressive, to fight for their right on the street. And they do that because if they don’t somebody else will definitely do. That is the way it works in Mumbai.  So, they will strive, and accelerate, and sneak in, and they will push it to the edge, until the opponent driver yields and surrender.

The main weapon for this battle of streets is no other than the horn. In India, it doesn’t matter how fast or powerful your engine is. Horsepower is of minor importance in the streets of Mumbai. After all, where are you going to go? There is no much space to accelerate or speed. The dominance of your car over the others relies entirely on the power of your horn.

Indians are blowing the horn non-stop, no matter what. They will use for the reasons that the rest of the world does, plus any other reason that you can imagine. They blow it when the green light goes on, when they want to overtake another car, to warn another driver that there is no f* way they are moving aside so they ‘d better think twice. They blow it to warn pedestrians to run for their lives.! I feel sometimes they blow it to keep them sharp and awake, or just because they feel that they are somehow boosting their speed.

The funniest part though is this writing you see on the back of almost any truck, van or bus. It says: “Horn OK Please”. The first thing you will think is that this makes no sense. It’s because it doesn’t. No matter how many people I have asked, no one was able to give me a plausible explanation. I have concluded that this is one of those multi-meaning phrases, equivalent to those articulated by prophets, like Pythia in ancient Delfoi in Greece. Just for the history, Pythia used to tell to the person that was visiting her for advice, a phrase that could have so many interpretations, that finally she miraculously always predicting the future. This way, she maintained her fame intact, the money just kept on coming, and she was peacefully enjoying her ancient hash at the foothills of mount Parnassus.

Likewise, Horn OK Please could either mean that: “You are absolutely welcome to blow your horn at me, so go ahead”, or one could perceive it  as: “No matter how hard you blow your horn on me, I really don’t give a damn”, or it could also be something like,:“Please go easy on the horn, I have sensitive ears”. No ne knows! It is like a tradition that you don’t know its roots or meaning but you blindly follow it because your great-grandfather used to ride a camel with the Horn OK Please written on the camel’s ass!

Surprisingly..not, there is a Wikipedia post about “Horn OK Please”. According to this digital magician of our tribe (Wikipedia), the trucks that used to run on kerosene after the World War II, had to write it on the back wing: “On Kerosene”. The main characteristic of kerosene is that it is super unstable and the minor collision would trigger the explosion of the vehicle. And this is where the “Horn Please” comes in. The driver of the truck was warning the following vehicles that his car is running on kerosene therefore they should warn him in case they would attempt an overtake, so that he won’t make any sudden move that would cause an accident. There are a couple of other stories there, but I don’t really think anyone truly knows what this is all about. This is just another of India’s great mysteries….