The same evening, I went with Sunitha’s father-in-law and brother-in-law to an area in New Mumbai to see a play written by her sister-in-law andt directed by her mother-in-law (and starring both of them). It was in an outdoor amphitheatre, and though it was in Hindi, I was able to deduce a lot of what was going on because Bonnie, Sunitha’s sister-in-law, sent me a synopsis in English prior to the show. It was a comedy, as you can tell from this character below (who is a mime in his day job! I never thought there would be mimes in India, though that is, I suppose, a random thought to have).
At around 10:45 p.m., following set tear down, we went to a restaurant (across the street from a three-story KFC) called Global Fusion, where, for a set price, you can basically eat WHATEVER YOU WANT (this takes me back to running with my friends Liz Henry and Kate Kopischke in Denver, who after a long run always told me that I could now go to the grocery and buy WHATEVER I WANTED because we had, like, totally ran 15 miles).
Back to Global Fusion. The protocol is that your table has a number, and then has small clips with the number on it. You approach long counters of food, with chefs behind them, where you drop your clips into bowls indicating which dish you want. This included lots of starters (appetizers) as well as sushi, sashimi, more sushi, and basically All Things Tasty and Delicious. In the next room were the main courses with lots of ethnic specialties as well.
It was midnight by the time we ate, and totally worth every bite. Not to mention, we got to sit over a pond of live fish, so it was like we were floating! For dessert, Sunitha’s father-in-law and I ventured over to the Dessert Station where I suggested we get two of everything. The waiter looked at me skeptically, then cautiously handed me one plate, to which Suntiha’s dad-in-law responded “NO! We want TWO OF EVERYTHING!”
Needless to say, we got two of everything. TONS of chocolate surprises!
Even though I retired for the evening at 2:15 a.m., I roused myself by 6:15 because Sunday was the day I was to become a Bombay Hash House Harrier. What, might you ask, is such a thing?
Some back story:
The first two weeks I was in Bombay I read 2.5 books on India. One of the books referenced a running club where you drink beer after you run. As many of you know, this encompasses two of my hobbies into one neat package. So, in January, I Googled the group, and sent a message to the email address I found on what appeared to me an abandoned website.
Fast forward one month later, and I receive an email and then a call about the group, who is having their scheduled monthly run that Sunday in Lonavla, a town north of Mumbai famous for its peanut brittle (Chikki) which I can attest, as can Maria, is divine. I arrange for a carpool and that morning, end up waiting an hour before the carpool finds me (mind you I am sitting at a bus stop along a busy road wearing bright orange running pants). Apparently, I was at the end of an incorrect flyover. But all was well once I asked a man to speak to my carpool driver, and we reached Lonavla and began the run at about 10:30 a.m.
The running group is made up of a bunch of delightful characters. I was among the youngest, and also, I believe, the only Westerner. Many in the group were over 40 (and 50 and 60) years old, so I quickly found out that a lot of Hashers, as they are called, walk the run. This was fine by me, but it was already hot and I knew I needed to get moving.
Turns out the “run” was also part hike--we made our way past women gathering cow dung for fires and men gathering sticks, up and down hills and trails, across a damn, and finally down a waterfall (well, what would have been a waterfall during monsoon season). To follow the route you look for chalk markings the Hashers who designed the route had left; if you get too far ahead (as me and another runner did who was also embarking on her maiden Hash voyage) you wait for someone with more knowledge to catch up and guess where the next chalk marking lies. After a few bouts of confusion, and an hour and a half later, we reached our starting point.
The fun then continued as I was one of the first to finish (now some of you have an of the pace we are talking) and the Kingfisher Blue tallboys and salty snacks were passed around. I met so many delightful people--Boris, Shahruk, Ameeta, Deeptika, Harsh, Kekti, Chirag and the list goes on. Also, there was a program part of the afternoon, where certain people had to “Sit on the Ice”. This literally meant sitting on huge blocks of ice while being hazed by your fellow Hashers. Basically they sing a song about hashing, then you have to chug some beer. It was highly inappropriate and exponentially fun, and by the time I left at 3:30 or 4:00 p.m. to head back to the city, I had several new friends’ phone numbers and a bit of a buzz.
You can see me on the left looking very tall and white in the orange pantsThe day did not end here, though. I got a ride back to town with some new friends and was able to see their home as well as the recording studio they operate and watch the sunset over the sea. I quickly briefed Sunitha on my day over dinner, and then met up with two new Hashers at a bar in Bandra, which is known as the hip, more Westernized neighborhood in Bombay. On a terrace my new friends and I tipped back whiskeys and beers (and ate more starters) while I watched, with some surprise, a group of 8 or so Indian men busting out Bollywood moves on the dance floor below; it was not advised by my friends that I join. It was my first experience out in the “bar scene” so to speak here and ended up being great fun.
Needless to say, the following day was the latest I have slept in since my Indian adventures began.
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