Tour of the slums

Speaking of disparity of wealth, I did a tour of the slums. Unlike anything I had ever seen. I saw the process of how they are shipped our recyclables, how they have to hand wash the foul-smelling, dirty, rotting remnants off the plastic, bleach it with dangerous chemicals, break it down with machines, and then put it up on the roof to dry off. Lots and lots of labor, all for a few dollars a day. Not only that, but they make papasans (or something like that, hand-made, very thin wafer type snacks generally served for free in bars). Also, they skinned and dried animal hydes here to make leather, made beautiful pottery, etc. etc. I found it pretty amazing everything that they did. The smells were putrid, I stepped on animal blood, over human feces, everywhere. There were rotting carcases, naked children who wanted to shake my hand. I often found it hard to breathe without feeling like I needed to gag. I’ve never experienced it that badly before. There were women who complimented me on my earrings, and girls that must have been 14 years old with babies. People were generally friendly, and very curious. A lot just stared. Children wanted to know our names and where we were from. We weren’t allowed to take photos, but it still seemed like we were at a zoo viewing the animals. Outside of the slums, some people asked to be in my photos. No one asked us for money in here. The money for the tour and the post card/photographs that I bought were used to support a school where they teach classes, such as how to use a computer and social etiquette.

That night, I was suppose to meet up with my friend Justin’s Indian friend who lived in Mumbai. I was psyched, it was the weekend and I was DONE with my work, not only that, I had an early flight in the morning to paradise (ie Goa). I wanted to do some last-minute shopping, some of my friends had asked me to pick up a thing or two if I happened to come by it. One wanted a shirt, another wanted a specific scarf. While shopping around, there was a store vendor who started talking to me. He was very unattractive, but had blonde hair and white skin. Upon further conversation, I learned he was originally from the UK but had lived in India for years. He was very invasive, like all the people that I met in Delhi. (That is where he grew up for the most part). He wanted to know if I wanted to get a drink, but… oh darn, I’m suppose to be meeting Justin’s friend to hang out for the night. Just in that very moment, I get a phone call. It’s Justin’s friend, and he can’t meet me anymore, he got out of work too late and it would take an hour to get to me. So blondy (I’ll call him that) hears the whole conversation and when I get off the phone, declares “perfect! Now you can go out with me. “ Great, just what I wanted. So, I reluctantly agreed, I guess I had nothing better to do. So we went out for some food and drink, and it wasn’t too bad. But then we got in a taxi because he wanted to show me some beach and I said no, no I have to go home, I have packing to do and an early flight. So fine, taxi dropped me off, and he came with. So I tell him, you’re not coming with me. I had to tell him over and over and over again that I didn’t want him to hang out in my room while I did my packing, and I definitely didn’t want him giving me a massage. Sadly enough, as unattractive and annoying as hell as this guy was, he probably got a lot of girls interested in him because he had light skin and hair. And he made sure to talk about all the girls that liked him, and the girls he hooked up with, trying to talk himself up in hopes that I would follow suit. Without being rude, because I’m really not good with being rude, it took me forever and ever to get him to leave me alone so I could go back and finish packing. No I didn’t want to stare out at the ocean, and I didn’t want to talk with him for just 5 minutes about my life dreams and goals. I made damn sure that he didn’t follow me in.

Cultural difference in India: Not sure if this was already mentioned in the previous 14 pages, but they ask you if you have eaten yet like it’s mentioning the weather. It’s kinda bizarre to say the least. When they ask you, and wait for your response, it’s not like they’re wondering if they can get you a snack, or can they eat with you, it’s just a silence filler. I thought it was the most bizarre thing and never knew how the heck to answer that question. I thought often times people were using it to promote the hotel restaurant, or ask me to lunch. Never though they just wanted to know that I had eaten or not.