Chaos Ain't Limited to Greek Mythology

It has been a while since my last post. My apologies. Life has been a whirlwind.

Last Wednesday, I went to the airport in Delhi to catch a flight to Mumbai (for the record: Indian airlines serve significantly better food on their flights than their American competitors). Having spent the last three days removing my shoes at every religious edifice imaginable, I was shocked to discover that the security guards did not ask me to take off my footwear. They did, however, frisk everyone with their special security wand.

When I landed in Mumbai, I discovered a city with a completely different culture and climate from Delhi. Whereas Delhi, a hotspot for Mughal architecture, is an ideal place to learn about India’s past, Mumbai is where you should go to learn about its present and future. The city is a corporate, cosmopolitan explosion. The skyline is filled with large buildings and neon signs, and the streets are congested with traffic. The influx of corporations means that there is barely enough land to go around. There is less than one acre of open space for every 1000 people, and the real estate costs more than comparable properties in Manhattan. In spite of its rapid growth, Mumbai, like the rest of India, continues to struggle with poverty. At least fifty five percent of its residents live in slums.

Walking around Mumbai is a little frightening. Drivers spend so much time sitting in traffic that they refuse to stop for pedestrians. One morning, I was walking away from Mani Bhavan (Ghandi’s residence) when a woman unsuccessfully tried to pickpocket me. I was so distracted by my brush with theft that I fell flat on my face while crossing a busy street and almost got run over by an SUV. Pickpocket and near death experience aside, Mumbai was amazing. I feel lucky to have gone and would love to return.

Now that I am back in the States, I am getting ready to move to Ecuador. Unfortunately, my housing situation is still fuzzy. My homestay organization has told me next to nothing about my host family. I, as a general rule, do not move into strangers’ homes at ten o’clock at night. As such, I have decided to stay in a hotel for at least the first week so that I will be able to meet my prospective host family and make sure that I am comfortable with them before I move in. Finding a suitable hotel that could pick me up from the airport in the middle of the night was difficult, but I have succeeded.

As Sunday has grown more imminent, I have gotten nervous about going to a developing country by myself for five months (surprise, surprise). Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. Pro-Antigone cheerleading routines are also accepted.