Journey Through the Past: Working Out in Mumbai

I've written before about my constant attempts/adventures in trying to find places to work out overseas. I guess I don't want to go back to the immense man I was several years ago, but it also just keeps me feeling better physically (sadly, I'm past the age when it gives me a good body - now it just keeps the various and sundry pieces in smoother working order) and is a great stress reducer (unfortunately, still a major part of my life). I've discovered that overseas, especially on long trips, working out also helps to create a schedule to the day. When I spent the summer of 2004 teaching at our Mumbai campus one of the biggest reasons why it went so well (beyond the extraordinary efforts of my dear friends John and Raj to make me happy) was finding a place to work out. A few blocks down the street from Mr. Gary's apartment was Sykz Fitness Center, which prides itself on being "the" location for Mumbai's young and beautiful (and me). It really helped my mood to have a place to go to every morning to work out - and it had great showers (which was much better than the shower with very limited hot water in my apartment). Most of the patrons were "posers" (borrowing a term from my son's skate boarding days - this was the ultimate insult for a while), but the staff were really dedicated. It was also one of the times when it really hit home with me how being in India had changed me - in this case naturally falling into the habit of haggling over everything. I stopped in to ask how much a two month membership would cost, and after being quoted a figure I automatically responded, "I just don't see me paying that much, how about . . ." And, after a few minutes of back and forth, we agreed upon a figure.

Krishna Janmashtami

More rediscovered pictures. These are from August 2003, my second visit to India and the first time that I ventured out on my own. On my first trip to India I stuck pretty close to the Champlain team and followed the directions of my good friend Michelle. As has become legend at Champlain - or at least I've attempted to make it a legend - there are the rules that Michelle follows overseas, which I always refer to as wearing the WWMD (What Would Michelle Do) bracelet. Even though we always travelled happily together, it did sometimes cause tension because there is a tremendous difference between WWMD (almost nothing - or maybe one new thing a trip) and WWGD (which is essentially everything). On this particular visit I decided that I had spent enough time cooped up and ventured out on my own, much to the horror/chagrin of Michelle. It was during the celebration of Krishna Janmashtami, which is Krishna's birthday. I left the walled compound of our campus and disappeared into a crowd of thousands of Hindu celebrants (and in my mind was flashing back to Larry Darrell at the end of Somerset Maugham's Razor's Edge disappearing into the mass of India). There are many aspects to Krishna's birthday celebration, and some of them are pretty fun. The one I was a part of was Dahi Handi, which commemorates the times that the adventurous/impish young Krishna would climb up on the shelf to steal buttermilk. Teams, known as govinda, travel around Mumbai and form human pyramids to reach clay pots stretched, sometimes fifty or seventy feet, above the street. The person at top tries to smash the clay pot, which showers the pyramid with buttermilk. There are also prizes for the winning teams and it is quite competitive, and often it gets tied up with politics as different parties offer cash awards. There are over 4000 handis in Mumbai alone. So, I walk around until I found one of the clay pot and waited for the teams to arrive. One of the teams adopted me as their mascot and I sat in the street and ate with them (much to Michelle's utter horror when I recounted the story). It was one of those moments which, besides just being a complete sensory overload, symbolized my own passage. I'm posting several pictures, ranging from the inside of our campus to the chaos of the street scene to the formation of the human pyramids. The next to last picture is of my team sitting down in the street to eat before the competition. I was sort of hoping that they were going to ask me to be part of the pyramid, but they had obviously spent a lot of time training - and certainly none of them wanted me to be standing on their shoulders. It was a lot of fun, but to watch the pyramids collapse, as they sometimes did, into the street looked pretty painful.

"Only one!"

OK, more pictures from the rediscovered treasure trove of lost pictures. Again, here are a few from my first trip to Dubai. This must have begun my love affair with the camel. They were all taken on the same desert trip that led to the jeep being stuck on top of the sand dune. Here's an adorable picture of a baby camel, and a much more portly Scudder making friends. The last picture, which is hard to make out because it was taken at night, shows me getting my first camel ride. That's when I learned the hard way that you really have to bolster yourself when the camel sits down because they do so pretty violently and if you aren't careful you'll eviserate yourself. The guy in charge of the camels, who had been putting two women on a camel, and after getting a look at my unimaginable girth, shook his head and said, "Only one!" Later we were standing in line at a buffet and one of the Arabic men dolling out food looked at me and said, "You are a big man, I will give you more." His neighbor, started laughing, and jumped in with, "I too will give him more." I then came home and lost sixty pounds. When even the bedouins are laughing at you I think it's time to lose weight.

The Sacred and the Secular

And another early picture. I probably have dozens of pictures like this, but, once again, this dates back to my first trip to India so it is special to me. It probably speaks to me because it was one of those times when the extraordinary spirituality of India, which, because I'm a historian I already knew about, still jumped out at me in a very everyday way. Here is a little temple, essentially open to the elements, right on the sidewalk in the midst of the chaos of Mumbai. While America is not the most secular country in the world (technically many of the European countries are more secular than we are, although I tend to think that we still push ahead because we are so embarrassingly materialistic) we are still a world away from the spirituality that permeates all things Indian. This does not say that because of this fact India is necessarily better or that the U.S. is necessarily worse, but it does speak to the difference. I guess I wish that the U.S. was more spiritual and less religious.

Driving in Delhi

I'm not quite certain why my mind has been so absolutely flooded with memories of my early travel lately (other than, like Aurel Stein at Dunhuang, finding the treasure trove of pictures that I thought I had lost). While my first overseas adventure was to Dubai, the first time it was truly an ADVENTURE was my initial trip to India. I've written at length about my fascination with all things Indian, and although it predated this particular trip (March 2003) it was definitely reenforced then. After arriving in the middle of the night my first exposure of India was driving out to our then campus in Delhi - and receiving my first exposure to driving in India. I've always joked that Indian traffic laws are actually based on physics rather than the rule of law. I can still clearly remember counting the official traffic lanes (3) and comparing it to the actual traffic (7). Here are some of the pictures from that first drive in India, including the appropriately ignored/abandoned traffic police station (I've often wondered what sort of traffic crime you would have to commit to get in trouble in India, although I suspect my dear friend, Mr. Babu [see last summer's posting] will find out sooner than later]). I also like the fifth picture down, which shows one of the ubiquitous auto-rickshaws. I remember on another trip my chagrin at being unable to convince my good friend Michelle to climb into one. One time I saw one of them get tipped over by bumping into a truck, and the driver just popped out, rolled it back over and drove away. The second picture down was my first exposure to the cows living in the median and taking over the street if they are in the mood. The first picture is a nice juxtaposition of the old and new - and the haves and have-nots - in India.

Gold Souque

The first country I ever visited was, interestingly enough, the United Arab Emirates. In the old days Champlain had a campus in Dubai and I was initially asked to travel there as part of a team site visit, mainly because no one else wanted to go. So, after getting my first passport, I made the trip and actually had a great time. Dubai itself doesn't hold a lot of charm for me, mainly, I think, because I'm a historian and there's not a lot of history left there. However, one of the places we visited, the Gold Souque, did provide some aspect of the traditional, along with jarring reminders of the creep of globalization. Now, I shouldn't have been surprised by this because at the time the first sign you saw when you landed at the gleeming Dubai Airport proclaimed, "Welcome to Dubai, Crossroads of the New Global Economy." Dubai is a real delicate balancing act between the shiny modern and the deeply conservative traditional world. On my first visit we drove past a huge billboard sign for a car dealership that featured a picture of a young Emirati man driving a convertable, kafiya blowing in the breeze, with the catch phrase, in English, "Live the Dream" - which was clearly not to be a good Muslim, but rather to have a sweet ride. At the same time, there are a lot of topics, most notably feminism, which are clearly off-limits in our Global Module discussions. Anyway, here are a few pictures from my first trip to the Gold Souque. I love the juxtaposition between the traditional garb and the European casual wear.

Just a Picture

OK, just a few moments before I head off for a Faculty Senate meeting (and, doubtless, pray for death's sweet release). I was cleaning out my office and came across a CD that my good friend Marcie Patton from Fairfield University sent me. She was one of the great crew that were part of the Silk Road CIEE trip I took in summer 2009. It was part of a seven week, seven country marathon that was right in the middle of the lowest point in my life. However, although it was gruelling, it was good for me and by the end I was in a much better place emotionally - as evidenced by this silly picture of me that Marcie snapped while we were off in the mountains of western China (I'm thinking somewhere in greater Tibet, but I'd have to go back and check my notes). For some reason it really expresses a moment in time for me.