Moving up and down up and down.

Walking up and down up and down. I know it doesn't really sound stimulating but so far no one has given a tough time. I've had a couple of girls ask me to buy them rice. No money, no money, buy rice, for my family, no money." I don't get what they scam is. Can you not buy rice with money? At any rate I kind of imagined a time-square type situation, with ass to check, to jowl and what not but it's really not that bad. It is true that from time to time things get clogged, but it's never violent and uncomfortable. Beggars aren't too bad and let me say this coming from Zambia, here I am ABSOLUTELY ANONYMOUS. A white foreigner attempting to enter a slum area of Lusaka, he'd get mobbed. Here nothing, I am ignored. The only people who don't ignore me are hash dealers. Literally every 10 minutes of walking someone tries to sell me hash. I must think about changing my wardrobe, eh?

So enough boring words:
Look at all the pretty flowers, and you know that these are NOT for tourist. Garlands are worn on special dates, like weddings, but more daily use is for temples. I really like the Hindu idea of temples. Decorations you just throw up and forget about them unless you're staring right at them. A shrine needs upkeep: fresh flowers everyday, candles, incense. Yesterday I even say this special dripping thing that let go a continuous stream of fresh milk on fresh garlands... milk is special to Hindus, and of course, if you couldn't tell, colors. (Green=peace, blue=manly strength, yellow=knowledge, and so on)

A third of Mumbai population live in slums like these. Apparently since "Slumdog Millionaire," a movie I have not see, westerns come to gawk at the misery. I hate to promote a negative stereotype, but you know it's real, and it's teeming millions we're talking about here. I shall write more about this later.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of hiking the Muslim/Urdu quarter which was pretty amazing. It's really fits the cliche of a bustling Eastern market place. It's great because every kilometer of Mumbai brings you to a completely different atmosphere... always very stimulating.

So my problem is that I can't stick to a game plan. Yesterday I was *supposed* to go see the Silent Towers and this building Antilia. The Silent Towers were build by the Parsis, a people from Iran (Parsis sounds like Persians) who came to Mumbai long ago. Unlike Iranians these guys still follow the old old was of Zoroaster/ Zarathustra... a religion that gave Jews, Muslims, and Christians their concept of Pure Good (God) in conflict with Pure Evil (Satan). Iranians today, although Shiites, still have a fire-jumping holiday that goes back thousands of year, and that the Mullahs hate... but good fun is good fun, right? Anyways, here in Mumbai these Parsis form a small but very rich and tightly nit group, and they built these Silent Towers. I'm not too sad to miss them because I'm told it's hard to get close, but what's really fascinating is that Parsis don't bury their dead, they throw them up on the roofs of these towers exposed and let them putrefy. Can you imagine getting past the health inspector in America with that one?

Antilia on the other end of the spectrum is the most posh fancy personal residence in the world. 60 stories high, a real sky scrapper, but only 30 floors on account of huge vaulted ceilings. It's close to these Towers of Silence, cost billions and has only 4 residents. Is it vulgar conspicuous consumption? Is it iconic of the fast money being made in a whirlwind economy? Or is it just hubris?

So yeah, I went out to find these things but got distracted and ended up walking very far away, but you know this place is great because I don't regret it for a second. Go with the flow, that's what I say.

On a lighter note, this:
a goat perched on a motorcycle. why not? I lived and breathed goats for two years past and they are not, mercifully, common here, even in the slums. They're bulkier than Zambian versions and the he-goats have these shocking football-sized testicles that hang down separately, and no bleating. Perhaps the Indians have beat the bleat clean out of them.