A fun day out was spent on a ferry boat trip to Elephanta Island, where Buddhist and Hindu caves have been carved out of the rocks in the hillside. It's absolutely amazing to think of what was going on in those times and the effort and craftsmanship it took to achieve them.

And to think we only came to Mumbai to get my passport renewed! Now that its ready, I'm a little sad to think of leaving just yet, but it's time to move on and we'll be back again, and again and again, each time with more to discover.

Here are a few of Peter's worthless pontification's:

A couple of days ago we were walking through one of the street markets and we saw a fine, healthy specimen of a heifer. Helen remarked on how full of milk this beautiful bovine was when the beast lifted her tail to pee. An Indian businessman who happened to be passing behind her cupped some of her urine in his right hand and dribbled it over his head without missing a step. I really wish I could give more detail and some information on the significance of this seemingly auspicious gesture (or ritual?), but all I can do is shrug my shoulders and say "I'm in India" and it all makes sense, because nothing makes sense. All of us think that we are open to new experiences, but usually we really mean that we're open to new experiences that closely parallel past experiences. I've always considered myself pretty adventurous, but every time I walk out the door in Mumbai, and I mean every single time, something happens that shakes my values and beliefs and really stretches my comfort level. Things happen that really move your core, and it makes me shudder to think that all these things are just everyday Mumbai. My first 3 days here I hated Mumbai like no other place I've ever been, which is not like me. Usually, I really fit in and immediately find my groove, meet several people, and know the city's geography like a guide book, but in retrospect, I think Mumbai scared me because I was subconsciously aware of it's power. Mumbai is like a manifestation of a guru: it teaches and stretches and scares and coddles and it will strangle you until you draw your final breath, and just when you've reached the letting go that comes with realizing your final resolve, it will release you from the black-and-white into vivid color. 7.5.06

We went to the movies to see Aeon Flux. We were astonished when they played the Indian National Anthem at the beginning of the film and everybody in the theatre stood. As not to look like infiltrators, we slumped in our seats and tried to be invisible (as did the other white couple sitting across the aisle from us). About 10 seconds into the extraordinarily long anthem (which sounded as if it were blaring from someone holding an AM pocket radio in the back row) a voice screeched "STAND UP!" at the top of his lungs. We shot out of our seats and stood at strict attention. When the song ended we sat and became even more invisible. On another note, that night I wore a tee shirt that has the Deviled Ham logo and the caption: Have A Nice Day. As we walked into the theater there was a group of Muslim men sitting on the theatre steps outside and they really didn't see the humor. Nothing was said to me, but their frightening silent stares told me they were very aware of the infidel in their presence and each of them were concocting horrible methods to dispose of him. Like a brick through my face, I realized then and there that some things that we westerners joke about are taken very seriously in other parts of the world. My next realization, which came hot on the heels of the first, was that I should rid my wardrobe of such evil armor, thus liberating my soul (and my rear end) from a good old fashion middle-eastern can of jihad whip ass. 10.5.06

My negotiating skills are getting better every day. I argue with cab drivers that try to screw us (see the "Hello, my friend!" section in my observations) and I actually got a street vendor down to 1/3 of his original price on a worthless pocket calculator. I was so proud! There is a technique and if you follow it religiously great enjoyment will come with every purchase, and even better, any buyer's remorse is negated by the whole arguing process, in other words, you'll feel like you really earned that $1.00 shirt. Actually, I have to admit to a huge amount of sarcasm here, the real truth is that we in the west are the "have's" and the locals are the "have-not's". I'm very aware of exactly how low I can get them down in price, but I think it is important to negotiate fairly and even take a bit of a hit on some things. I see western tourists getting very stroppy when negotiating and I feel a bit ashamed. I saw one guy with a Leica camera around his neck (over his Gucci leather backpack) loudly arguing over what amounted to a 25 cent difference in the price of a tee-shirt. The poor vendor was taking a pretty good verbal beating. I know the Mumbaians are tough, but the whole act put on by the buyer was so unnecessary. To describe it I have to use a word I haven't used since high school: gross. There is comfort in the reality that the idiot's purchase will only last until the men who do the laundry beat the crap out of it on a concrete slab (see laundry photos of the Dhobi Ghats) then the whole cycle starts again. Beautifully karmic, ain't it? 12.5.06

April 25th was a very a sad day for us.

While giving me a push to catch a wave on my boogie board, Peter's wedding ring slipped off his finger. It followed the movement of his hand along the length of his finger and just didn't stop. It disappeared into the Arabian Sea. Immediately Peter tried to look for it. As I turned back after riding my wave, I saw his feet sticking out of the water, and knew instinctively what had happened.

There was only one appropriate thing to do: after searching the tide line for the next few days without success, we swam together into the waves and let mine slip in to the water. If one was lost, then they should both be lost together. And while they represented our love, they were not the definition of it.

We decided to search again and find the perfect pair. We found them less than two weeks later on Peter's described "favorite street in Mumbai", in a little jewelers manned by three charming young men. They pushed and prodded and persuaded the silver into our finger's sizes and we went away smiling and elated. We had a ceremony between ourselves, appropriately at dusk, at the edge of the same sea that holds the original rings.

And then we celebrated at the hotel across the street with a beautiful sunset and overpriced drinks.

If need be, we'll do it again. And again. Cycles of little ceremonies, small renewals of our vows.

PMB 17/5/06