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After a long and interesting trip, I finally made it to Mumbai! In order to combat the jet-lag (severe, of course compounded by the heat and humidity) I figure I’d tell the story of my journey to the motherland. If this blog stops halfway through and finishes with nonsense, it’s because I fell asleep on the keyboard. My apologies in advance!

Full of gelato and pizza, I flew out of Italy in a post-exam daze. I must have had that “I-know-what-I’m-doing” look on my face, or at least “I’m-harmless-and-won’t-bite,” because EVERYONE kept stopping to ask me directions to places in the airport, or questions about the flight, or whether they were at the right gate. After successfully making use of all of the languages I have in my arsenal, I got on the plane where I was promptly seated in the midst of a group of rowdy Indians.

Before I begin my discussion of the Indians, I must say that Emirates is the best airline I have ever flown on. Good food, good service, cushy seats, tons of little extras (like hot towels in the beginning to wash your hands, plus hot mint tea), personal tvs with a huge list of movies you can order on demand, and no extra fees for anything. I can certainly understand why it’s one of the top-rated airlines in the world, along with Singapore airlines (is it a coincidence that both are small, rich countries with authoritarian governments?). Tucked in and comfortable, I was prepared to snooze my way through a fantastic flight.

Well, this was not to be the case. The male Indians near me were insistent on getting drunk on Emirates’ free alcohol, while the women found me quite fascinating. During the course of the trip, at least eleven people stopped to ask me where I’m from, and were delighted when they found out that not only was I American, but I’m also half of Indian descent. They were all very friendly and I got several invitations to have dinner with various families. Whether this was out of purely kind intentions, or they were trying to set me up with their sons, it was nice nonetheless.

One particular conversation I had with a couple was a little strange. I had been talking to them for a while about various things, and after a lull in the conversation, the man says to me (pointing to his wife, very proudly), “She is my only wife! Not two wives!” Since they didn’t speak English very well, I thought it might have been an error in translation, so I just smiled and said…”Er…great!” Then the wife asks, “Do you have one mother? Or two?” I replied that I only had one mother, and they nodded approvingly. I thought this was a little strange, as I wasn’t aware that polygamy was a norm in India (and per various conversations with other people I had, it certainly isn’t). I contented myself with thinking that either this couple was very bizarre, or  just misinterpreted what they were trying to say.

Slowly but surely, we reached Dubai. The minute we landed was like a sensory explosion- perfumes, lights, flashy architecture, rich food, caviar, ice cream- all within steps into the airport. For the economy class, they had lounge chairs, private showers with toiletry bags, cushy waiting areas, and many amenities that I had never seen at any airport at the economy-level. As they had offered, I took a tour with a few other passengers (in a very nice bus) around the city, seeing various buildings, beaches and neighborhoods. I must say, I have never been anywhere like Dubai- it was luxury to the extreme, starting at the airport and continuing all the way to the downtown. The intention of the tour was to get people who only had connections in Dubai to want to come back, and let me tell you, if I had a ton of money to blow (and I would need it- I got a simple two scoops of ice cream with hot fudge for over ten bucks) then it certainly would have worked. It was luxury to the point of excess- so much so that it made me a little disgusted, as I get when I see what I perceive as huge waste and excess in the face of abject poverty. Who needs gold flakes on their ice cream or an indoor ski-resort when there are so many others starving?

Morality aside, Dubai was pretty awesome. It was the best connection I’ve ever had, especially when the emirates staff, concerned that I was a young female traveling unescorted, gave me access to the first-class lounge. On the flight to Mumbai, I was seated next to a Catholic Indian priest and nun, the latter with whom I had an interesting conversation about religion and spirituality.

Landing in Mumbai was the complete opposite of landing in Dubai. The airport was centered in the middle of the slums (like scenes straight out of Slumdog Millionaire- really. People picking through giant trashpiles, washing clothes in dirty rivers, tin-roof shanty towns), and was certainly nowhere near luxurious itself. I made my way to Vyoma’s apartment, which aside from having no air-conditioning in hot and humid 100 degree weather, is really quite lovely and makes me feel like I truly am experiencing India. Her neighborhood is pretty much every Indian cliche I can think of- women in saris, street-vendors hawking goods, slums mixed in with nicer apartments, dirt roads rife with animals, and traffic, traffic, traffic- and I love it. I haven’t had a chance to see the downtown of the city, but I will be sure to write about it when I do.

That’s it for now- Heading out for my first Indian dinner (won’t get to eat meat for a few months! , but in the spirit of the China vs. India policy debate, my next blog will be Mumbai vs. Beijing: a comparison. Stay tuned.