Barack Obama and Ed's Asian virginity

One of the first questions many of you from home are asking is regarding the international response to Barack Obama. As you can assume, it's been extremely positive. There have been one or two exceptions; we had a political conversation with a hilariously cynical Austrian man in his 50's, whose pessimism ranged from the prospect of 'a new kind of politics' to 'they'll never make a proper mojito at this hotel,' so we took his opinion with a grain of salt. Otherwise Obama is met with expected excitement. Arriving in Bombay last week at 4am with an 8 hour layover, we ventured into downtown Colaba. We met a poor man who offered himself as a tour guide in exchange for us buying his postcards. After our mutual celebratory "Obama!" cheers, he continued to inform us that Hillary Clinton was offered the position of Secretary of State. This was how we learned of the potential appointment. This toothless local was our own personal CNN. The only thing he was missing was the defining journalistic integrity of a teleportation device for Will.I.Am.
Many of the more educated Indians express their concerns about Obama's outsourcing policies. As a liberal president in a struggling economy, the assumption is that he'll bring jobs back to America and hinder the important outsourcing practices that has provided many jobs here in India. But they acknowledge that he's an intelligent leader and are optimistic that our countries will continue to develop a strong relationship. The key word here is optimistic - an adjective I have not heard applied to American politics in the last five years traveling the world.

I have been extremely, extremely fortunate to be graced with the prescence of one Edward F. Reimann for the first two weeks of my travels. Besides being the greatest party partner ever invented, it's been fascinating for me to see this country through his virgin, often intoxicated eyes. It's easy, as Americans living in an isolated, unilaterally minded country to overlook details of the world we live in. We flew here on Qatar Airways from New York to Bombay with a layover in Doha. I'd easily argue most Americans don't know that this airline, country or capital city even exist, let along have considered spending 4 hours in the airport of this middle eastern state, and Ed was no different. One noticable observation was to find the incredible efficiency of their airport security screening process compared to the inordinate, indiscriminate and often imbecilic ordeal back home. We were afforded the luxury of keeping our shoes and belts on, and looked at strangely when we tried to undress regardless. We passed the time admiring the airports modern architecture with it's expert lighting design and crisp white walls, perusing the shopping center and bowling on my iphone. For you sports fans out there, the high score to date: Justin with 179.
The contrast between Doha Airport and Bombay Airport is night and apples. Oranges and Constantinople . . . they're different. Bombay's airport is a consistently dreary brown, with a thick visible smog that is a combination of the city's pollution and nearby trash fires. After clearing customs, because of our connecting domestic flight to Goa we were told by armed security we couldn't leave the airport. But in India there are few absolutes in rules and regulations. With approximately 8 words of Hindi under my belt - most of them inquiring about the restroom - we found a way to convince the guards otherwise by simply standing next to them with a confused look on our faces until they became bored with our intruding presence.
We negotiated a taxi price that, unbeknownst to us involved a change of vehicle and driver - a seemingly simple ordeal only if you can ignore the jet lag, 5am interaction and language barrier. For the hour long drive Ed snapped away with his camera as the sun rose over India's financial capital. A vast subculture of Indian poverty can be seen during that one brief drive. Whole families sleeping under a single blanket on the sidewalk. The long expanse of continuous slum communities. Homeless men lying on top of or under any possible structure, with more rats than people roaming the streets. Alleyways lined with waking bodies, the men changing for work and the women redressing the makeshift concrete beds while their children lay casually unconscious inches from the edge of the overcrowded roads. There couldn't be a better introduction to India than to see Bombay transition from slumber to the busy, crowded, polluted, corrupt, impoverished, rich cosmpolitan city that holds this country together.

We have since been to an Indian wedding, breakdanced in a living room for a group of recently charged drug offenders, consecutively partied until 10 in the morning with new international friends convincing bouncers and bartenders that we are anyone and everyone, from celebrities to porn stars while much of the time wearing a rubber chicken mask. But you're probably not interested in hearing those boring tales right now. So until next time.