Smell

5 November 2007: Seeing the fall colo(u)rs in the UK was a treat. But they are missing out on my favorite Providence season: wind.

Regardless, both England and Providence smell like mulch. I like it.

Here in India, I stink of sweat. I departed from the cool, English weather only to fly thousand of feet high, arrive in Mumbai, unpack, and see my garment bags and contact saline solution sweat like cold soda cans in the summer sun.

After I checked into my miniature room in Colaba, I immediately got into the shower. If only you had seen it - an actual shower head (rare), a bucket and cup (standard), no toilet paper (depends), and a high ceiling with layers of peeling paint (unreal). I didn't think it was odd, but I just wanted to share because I don't think you would believe I thought so.

Anyway, so I beat the heat by wandering away from the waterfront and the Gateway of India towards the high-end shops - the skin on hotel bones fed from the outdoor pool and squawking bird sanctuary belly.

I decided (since my last trip to India) it's better to stay cheap and eat out rich. I save on merely a clean and secure bed to sleep on to make way for food with better quality and taste. So at this beautiful restaurant in the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel & Tower, the only English conversations I picked up - besides my Economist news fix and my own lips smacking over masala dosa - were of marketing consultants and biomedical engineers.

I wonder, if I were to stay on my same track if things may work out richly in the end. And if I would want an alternate route, well, I could learn Hindi.

Here's a pakora in the face.

Love,
Jackie