Shave and a Haircut - Mumbai, Dec. 3, 2009

Log margin notes:

It's been quiet in the past few days. A routine is developing.

After what felt like a futile fury of reporting on the 26/11 attacks and then trying to come up with something on the environment ahead of the Copenhagen meeting, I've had a few days to play the waiting game.

Monday I managed to schedule and interview with a traffic expert. My story on the environment is naturally related to the traffic problem here, but his focus was primarily on congestion and less on the impact to the Earth. At least it felt like some progress towards something about the local pollution levels with the backdrop of India's commitment to a deal at Copenhagen.

On Tuesday I got a haircut at a fairly sanitary and cozy spot (18' x 6') I saw when I had been hanging around police headquarters. I was chasing rabbits along the trail of a 26/11 story. The haircut cost a touch more than two-bits, but at Rs.30 or 66 cents, it was a decent bargain. I skipped the shave after the hatchet job done to me back in NY by a guy who I believe to be an expert barber (at least the vintage 1920s look of the guy told me so.)

That was Tuesday and later that day I walked through town waiting to hear from a guy I met at the Times of India.

I met him the week previous when we were both waiting to see the commissioner of police. As we talked I told him about my idea to write a story on the improvements made by the local ambulance services. He asked if we could work together; he had intended to do one of the same. I said I'd be happy to.

That weekend we had some dinner with some of his friends and he brought me over to the press club.

Now, after my haircut, I was busy drinking Rs. 5 or 8 cent Nescafe coffees which come in a dixie cup at the train station. I wandered around the neighborhood of the station and Times of India building, waiting around to meet him. By the end of the day he was too busy and said he'd call me back to reschedule. More waiting and waiting.

Wednesday, another interview. Two cab drivers could not find the office in the Santa Cruz (East) neighborhood. One drove me to Santa Cruz and more-or-less said...

"OK Santa Cruz."

Not good enough I told him and stopped to ask for directions. No one could help. I paid him for as far as he took me and not a rupee more, although I think he was expecting some kind of tip.

I realized he didn't even take me to the east side of the tracks. I know my way around better than this guy? Really?

I found the train station and took the foot-bridge over the tracks and looked for 3rd Ln... which as I've learned, may or may not be next to either 2nd or 4th Ln.

I got into an autorickshaw as time approached my appointment. He drove passed a 5th Rd. That was encouraging. He finally stopped and pointed as if to say... "just down that way." I've seen this routine before. Again, I paid him his Rs. 10 and nothing more.

I walked around a bit and headed back toward 5th Rd. I saw 2nd Ln. and as it should be, I saw 3rd Ln. I actually made it on time with minimal help from two cab drivers. That and the lack of roadsigns have to be some kind of impediment to growth, I figured.

I met with a guy from Greenpeace who also had little hard data on the environmental conditions in Mumbai. After stepping out of traffic, I could tell him they're pretty poor. It's dusty enough to make the Marlboro Man look like James Bond.

He did say that Greenpeace's new campaign will be against the use of genetically engineered foods. It sounded interesting, but I had my mission for the day. I still tried to get a hold of this professor at the Institute of Technology in Mumbai for data on the air quality. No luck. Time was running short again.

I brought myself back to my new neighborhood and sat at my American-style diner drinking coffee and trying to do some work on my accidentally pink computer. No one says anything about it, by the way. I was again locked out until 830p by my battle ax landlady who thinks I have to live my life based on her schedule.

Another part of my routine has been daily arguments with her. I don't really take it to heart. I care too little about her opinion of me. I'll take an interest if she thinks she's keeping any of my deposit, but there's only a need to worry about that in a few weeks.

Just today she threatened to charge me for electricity since my computer has been often plugged in. I said we never made any arrangement about the electric bill.

"I did not know you would be using all the time," she yelled.

"I didn't know you'd be out until 830 p.m. almost every night," I said.

In case anyone is still asking the obvious question: Why don't I have a key? ...the answer is that I never asked if I would get a key; I just assumed I'd get a key. I thought she didn't have it ready and I would get it the day after I moved in, but then she tells me that since I'd only be here for a month, I wouldn't get one.

I said as long as she's there to open the door, it makes no difference to me; but she goes out... and I get locked out.

She also finds at least one thing to yell at me for per day. Yesterday she told me not to leave the remote control on the bed because it might break and that would cost her money..?

"No, it won't break," I said.

Once I came back at 2 p.m. after leaving in the morning. She answered the door shouting that...

"Your timing is wrong! People sleep in the afternoon!"

"No, people work in the afternoon; people sleep at night," I said, and added yet again: "This wouldn't happen if I had a key."

"How can I give key if you're only here one month?"

"How can you rent a room and not give someone a key?" I asked... rhetorically.

I'm really not that upset about the situation, although I probably have a right to be. I will become upset if she thinks she's keeping any bit of my deposit.

So that's become a routine.

Today was Thursday. I met with a professor of environmental sciences and finished off that story on the air around here. I sent it to an editor at the Hindustan Times. He was nice enough to forward it to the Bombay editor. We'll see and it'll be posted right here as soon as I know what's happening with it. I offered to rewrite is as a wrap-up of Copenhagen.

Now that I've got a routine it's time to break it. I'll figure something out.