Memoirs from January 2nd - 4th
While in Mumbai, we did a lot of exploring of the city and the culture. Our first rickshaw ride was an adventure as previously mentioned. We met wonderful Americans who answered all of our questions about living in India as a stranger. We ate spicy food we didn't expect to be that spicy. And, we spent an entire day not being able to move.
We had two wonderful dinners two nights in a row. As we were eating at Masalazone, a girl named Allison who volunteered for Oasis, an NGO that helped women in the sex trafficking industry, asked for regular water. This is water at nice restaurants that has already been filtered. Seeing as she was from the States and could handle this water, I figured we would be safe. No worries, right?
The conversation at dinner was light and entertaining. There was 14 of us gathered around the table laughing and chatting up a storm. The food was delicious. One of the Indians, Ravi, ordered all types of chicken and mutton for the entire table. (Of course, Tess received a vegetarian option.) After dinner, we split up from the group and gave them hugs goodbye. Hopefully, the next time we are in Mumbai we can meet with them again (they were not apart of our study abroad group). Ravi took us back to the hotel where we crashed by 23:00. I slept for twelve straight hours that night. It was absolutely wonderful. The next day Tess and I relaxed at the hotel. We ventured out for lunch at a small cafe. We didn't want to get sick so we figured rest and sleep would be the best option. That night we had a fantastic dinner on the rooftop of our hotel at their restaurant, The Cafe. Once again, the waitress asked us if we wanted regular water. I assumed we were fine from the previous dinner, therefore it would be okay to drink the filtered, purified water. Oh boy, was I wrong!
The next morning I began to stir around 4. My stomach was aching all over. I tried to go to the bathroom but nothing. It hurt so bad! I don't how to describe the pain to you. You know when you take a fork and stab it into a plate of spaghetti? After you grab hold of a sizable portion of noodles, you begin to twist the fork over and over again so the noodles become tightly wound around the cold silver prongs. Well... That's what it felt like someone was doing to all the internal organs inside my belly. My best friend that morning, since Tess was asleep, was the annoyingly cooing pigeon outside our bathroom window. He kept me company as I hugged the commode every twenty minutes. Once Tess awoke, we realized we were both in major pain. Neither of us could stand and pack our bags for more than five minutes at a time. I had no energy. I couldn't stand, walk, or move.
Our director in India, Gokul, came to pick us up at 10:15. It took every ounce of energy I still had left in me to get our few bags down to the bottom floor. I almost hurled in the elevator. The smells and heat of the outside just made the matter worse. Gokul realized something was not right and took us straight to the hotel we would be staying in with the other international students. However, the ride to the Holiday Inn was horrible and long. As I explained earlier, the Indian traffic is ridiculous. Loud honks. Constant starting and stopping. I made myself pass out in the backseat in order to not puke in the clean, hired car. Once we got to our new room, we spent the next twenty-four hours cooped up in hopes of getting better. I hadn't eaten anything since the night before when dinner time rolled around. I was able to stomach a milkshake and some bread. Then, I slept the entire night.
Luckily, we had enough energy to tour Mumbai with the group the next day. I was able to keep down food and even do a lot of walking. We went to the Gateway to India, Elephanta Caves, and some large markets. My only advice... When people say don't drink the water... DON'T DRINK THE WATER! It felt like the worst hangover in the world. The sad part is we didn't even have any alcoholic beverages!
While in Mumbai, we did a lot of exploring of the city and the culture. Our first rickshaw ride was an adventure as previously mentioned. We met wonderful Americans who answered all of our questions about living in India as a stranger. We ate spicy food we didn't expect to be that spicy. And, we spent an entire day not being able to move.
We had two wonderful dinners two nights in a row. As we were eating at Masalazone, a girl named Allison who volunteered for Oasis, an NGO that helped women in the sex trafficking industry, asked for regular water. This is water at nice restaurants that has already been filtered. Seeing as she was from the States and could handle this water, I figured we would be safe. No worries, right?
The conversation at dinner was light and entertaining. There was 14 of us gathered around the table laughing and chatting up a storm. The food was delicious. One of the Indians, Ravi, ordered all types of chicken and mutton for the entire table. (Of course, Tess received a vegetarian option.) After dinner, we split up from the group and gave them hugs goodbye. Hopefully, the next time we are in Mumbai we can meet with them again (they were not apart of our study abroad group). Ravi took us back to the hotel where we crashed by 23:00. I slept for twelve straight hours that night. It was absolutely wonderful. The next day Tess and I relaxed at the hotel. We ventured out for lunch at a small cafe. We didn't want to get sick so we figured rest and sleep would be the best option. That night we had a fantastic dinner on the rooftop of our hotel at their restaurant, The Cafe. Once again, the waitress asked us if we wanted regular water. I assumed we were fine from the previous dinner, therefore it would be okay to drink the filtered, purified water. Oh boy, was I wrong!
The next morning I began to stir around 4. My stomach was aching all over. I tried to go to the bathroom but nothing. It hurt so bad! I don't how to describe the pain to you. You know when you take a fork and stab it into a plate of spaghetti? After you grab hold of a sizable portion of noodles, you begin to twist the fork over and over again so the noodles become tightly wound around the cold silver prongs. Well... That's what it felt like someone was doing to all the internal organs inside my belly. My best friend that morning, since Tess was asleep, was the annoyingly cooing pigeon outside our bathroom window. He kept me company as I hugged the commode every twenty minutes. Once Tess awoke, we realized we were both in major pain. Neither of us could stand and pack our bags for more than five minutes at a time. I had no energy. I couldn't stand, walk, or move.
Our director in India, Gokul, came to pick us up at 10:15. It took every ounce of energy I still had left in me to get our few bags down to the bottom floor. I almost hurled in the elevator. The smells and heat of the outside just made the matter worse. Gokul realized something was not right and took us straight to the hotel we would be staying in with the other international students. However, the ride to the Holiday Inn was horrible and long. As I explained earlier, the Indian traffic is ridiculous. Loud honks. Constant starting and stopping. I made myself pass out in the backseat in order to not puke in the clean, hired car. Once we got to our new room, we spent the next twenty-four hours cooped up in hopes of getting better. I hadn't eaten anything since the night before when dinner time rolled around. I was able to stomach a milkshake and some bread. Then, I slept the entire night.
Luckily, we had enough energy to tour Mumbai with the group the next day. I was able to keep down food and even do a lot of walking. We went to the Gateway to India, Elephanta Caves, and some large markets. My only advice... When people say don't drink the water... DON'T DRINK THE WATER! It felt like the worst hangover in the world. The sad part is we didn't even have any alcoholic beverages!
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