Qajaq Dancer

Last Friday, I finally had a chance to go down to the United States – India Educational Foundation (USIEF) offices and meet in person the two people who have been handling most of my correspondence as a Fulbright-Nehru grantee since before I landed in Mumbai. Typically I would have visited the USIEF offices the first day I was here, but I’m situated quite far away, and one of the officers kindly met me at my hotel to go through my initial orientation. This excursion was also my first chance to visit one of the more iconic areas of Mumbai, Colaba, where the Gateway of India and the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel are situated. Fortunately I had a “local” friend go with me to show me around and guide me through my first ride on the commuter train system. Gateway of India and the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel In 2008, there was a coordinated terrorist attack in Mumbai in 2008 at six highly trafficked areas in around the city. I inadvertently visited two of the attack sites, the Taj Mahal Palace Ho...

Today started kinda rough with the news that Arthur Mitchell has died. In less than a year, others with profound impact on my dancing career have passed away, including Elizabeth Walton LeBlanc, Donald McKayle and of course Paul Taylor. These names may not specifically have meaning for everyone, but they are inextricably connected to the life I lead today directly and indirectly, and I want to honor the opportunities and knowledge their lives provided to me and countless other dancers and lovers of this field. This post is not going to be an elegy, instead it is going to be about looking at the “everyday” of my time here. NOTE: to those of you who subscribe to get my blog without visiting the blogsite, it appears that when I upload the occasional video that it is completely omitted from the email version of my posts. Common trees and architecture are becoming “landmarks” as my mind maps how I travel around Mumbai. In my first few days on the ground here in Mumbai, I took the...

In many ways, pedestrians in Mumbai are as much a part of the street traffic as the cars, rickshaws, motorcycles, bicycles and push-carts. Horns are used to announce an approach from behind, as much as they might be used as a warning or a prod to an inattentive obstacle. There seems to be minimal traffic lights at intersections and almost no kind of traffic sign would likely have any effect on how intersections are negotiated. Crossing streets is an act of courage and conviction more than patience. A slightly raised hand to warn oncoming vehicles indicates your intent to cross in front of them. It can be fascinating to watch people and all manner of vehicles turning across a line of traffic, and terrifying when you have to join in the melee. Threshold detail in tiles at my front door. It is incredibly frustrating to not be able to communicate. I feel badly when most English speaking locals tell me how easily I can just ask for help. But my English seems to only prompt great...

I have been in Mumbai for a week now, and the potential frustrations of bureaucracy and local holidays did not disappoint. It has felt like a very long week since I arrived in India. I think this protraction of time is due mostly to the fact that I have not had much chance to do what I came here to do, which is teach and experience what I can of dance in Mumbai as a reflection of the country at large. That said, I have seen two dance performances created for younger audiences, and I did actually start teaching a few classes. So I guess it is all a matter of perspective. When scheduling my arrival in India, I was aware of the impending public holidays that pepper the autumn months, but it also made sense to try and be here for the beginning of September. So I have been living in a hotel, as mentioned before, until I can lock down an apartment to rent for my time here. However, I arrived on a Thursday night, and Friday was used for my orientation, even though I did gently push ...

Airports handle millions of travelers from all around the globe, and yet there is no universal “intuitive” design to manage crowds with radically different cultural backgrounds. So the approachability of airport staff to answer and direct “lost” travelers reflects greatly on the impressions visitors form as they enter a country through these ports. The three hour transfer in New Delhi to my Mumbai flight was very similar to my experience as an international in-transit transfer through Heathrow where you go through a very thorough security check point which took the better part of an hour. With the potential of appearing a lot more threatening than I think was intended, it was nice that the uniformed personnel interacting with passengers were not visibly armed, while armed soldiers watched from nearby. While English is an official language in India, there are likely hundreds of different languages that are used around the country, and I have almost no familiarity with any India...

It’s only three hours into a thirteen hour flight to Delhi, and I am already antsy. Maybe it has to do with the fact that my in-seatback entertainment system is not working. So I have opted to not try and relocate to a seat with a working video station, but instead write and read. To be honest, I have relied on the company of my feline family and film/TV entertainment for distraction, a lot more than I care to admit to. Jinx, Scraps, Balu and Anukis politely tolerating me taking their pictures the day I left. This particular journey has brought up memories of what I felt like when I first left my home in Jamaica to live on my own in a foreign country, England. I was still fifteen. It was hard to anticipate what I was going to feel, and as I boarded the plane in Kingston leaving behind everything that was familiar and that that I did not know I took for granted. I had some idea of what to expect in England, but that was like imagining yourself living in story that you once read a...