Do you have a penchant for attracting certain situations or people when you travel? Travel can bring unusual patterns, synchronicity and personal discoveries. The fact we’re often far from home, just makes them more prominent. For instance, I’m a film set magnet. In the U.S., I have a knack for stumbling upon film sets… frequently [...]
Mumbai is an unrelenting and persevering city. Its drives hard to catch up to its pace, but not the modern age. In many ways, I’m glad it hasn’t. It preserves the kind of traditional jobs, which make you respect India’s workforce all the more.
In my last post I touched briefly on the beaches in Goa and their um… tourist mania. As I explained, Baga Beach (& Calangute, it’s sister beach) can be a bit of a water sport carnival. Here are a few more pictures which may make you wonder- Is this still India?
Looking at the sea out from Baga Beach, the sea is shining, teasing,… much like the vibe of the locals and beaches in Goa. As a female traveling who’s been nervous about traveling india alone, I feel surprisingly safe here. Waves tickling my feet, a pineapple lassi in hand, I look out at the beach. Even the cows are catching their daily dose of sand and rays.
Along Carter Road runs a promenade which Mumbainikers go to for a stroll, to walk their dog or to just hang out by the beach. One of the nice things about this boardwalk are their benches. Some have inscribed memorials to people, some have short sayings and some have stray dogs, a large problem in India. Here are just a few of those benches– with slumdog or without.
Action. Motion. Heat. Noise.
A cacophony of sound and moving drive-by sights accost my taxi window on the drive into the heart of this blazing city. Overwhelmed and excited, everything felt raw, jaw-dropping or new to me and the problem began– what to focus my attention upon first?
All is a soiled hotbed of moving, honking, hawking, digging, driving, walking and selling activity. Roadside stands line the streets in endless stream, selling everything from food, souvenirs, cellphones,… tires.
Where should I begin? You show many faces. I don’t which is yours.
I open you up. Darkness, fog, then above the harang of noise, a bit of illumination.
Perhaps ugliness is your real face, your real beauty. It’s what gives life. It shakes loose the dream and makes you real for me.