“A mystery is only a high sounding term for a muddle. No advantage in stirring it up, in either case. Aziz and I know well that India is a muddle.” — E.M. Forster, A Passage to India
While I’m traveling, I’m still painting. But since watercolors fit in my carry-on suitcase more easily than a giant canvas, I’m sending “Postcards” from this adventure instead.
We landed in Mumbai just after 1am local time, which was 4am Hong Kong time, and I didn’t even try to figure out what time it was in Portland. I’ve learned in these cases it’s best to just forget that you ever owned a watch at home. Ignore the idea that while you’re trying to sleep, everyone else you know is eating lunch. Just focus on actually getting to sleep.
As is often the case, getting to sleep took a while. First, there was a delay at the gate. Then a long line at immigration. Of course, there was a different line for customs. And just as we thought we were free– a final line to have our bags scanned as we left the terminal.
We found our driver, then he found his car after a frantic search through the parking garage, and then he found our hotel after stopping to ask for directions several times. Even at 3am, my first impressions of Mumbai were chaotic and busy. I was tired, had the sniffles and was a little overwhelmed.
We arrived at the hotel, made our way up to the room and crashed quickly– Chris’s first event was only five hours away, and we knew we needed at least a couple of hours to sleep.
Fortunately, jet lag worked in our favor. We woke up at 7am refreshed and ready to start the day. I walked to the window, eager to see Mumbai in daylight and saw this instead.