Mumbai

A few days ago we were talking to our friend Sarah from Spain. Well, since Michael speaks Spanish and everyone at the table spoke Spanish they humored me in english for a little. Scotty asked “where’s the one place you want to go? What’s the dream?” After going around a few times Sarah replies “This. I’m living the dream.”

It sure feels like that these days. I ran into a woman named Shedor in a small museum in what used to be Gandhis house. She asked me why I was in India so young and what I studied. “Shake my hand” she said offering hers, “I studied philosophy too. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

To be blessed to be young and be traveling for so long is not a gift I overlook. Mumbai has taught me more than entire classes have in two months, in two days. It’s dirty and filled with people and poverty like everyone says, but captivating too. The smell of twenty million, the cascade of human bodies pilling into the main train station like fish in a giant tank. A rich city with poor people.

If you haven’t, I recommend reading Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo. It’s non-fiction narrative about the Mumbai undercity. It’s one of those weird pleasures in life to read so much about a place and then be there.

In Yoruba there is a phrase: Oba loba nje — a king is a king. What else can I say? BOMBAY. MUMBAI. A king is a king.

Up we go – north. Winter is coming! And by that I mean heat of a thousand suns as each day it gets hotter. Peace.

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