Mall Mayhem

I have a warning for all of you planning on attending a movie in India:
Be very aware of the balcony.

Last night we saw a Tamil Movie called "Mumbai Express." The movie has an English title, features dialog in Tamil and was shot in Mumbai (where they speak predominantly Marathi)... Only in Bollywood.

As far as we could tell, the movie was a comedy about a kidnapping and featured a stunt motorcycle driver who has a hearing disability of unknown origin. Apparently, the misunderstandings that result from his difficulty in hearing lead to much comedic mayhem. He uses a hearing aid that is a headphone earbud attached to a small amplifier unit (We've seen adults and kids all over India and Bangladesh using them). He spends most of the movie saying "Ki?" or "What?" and holding the amplifier up to his cell phone. There were some great sight gags, but no dancing - M was very dissapointed.

We walked into the theater an hour after it started (Now wait a minute! 1. The movie is in Tamil and we don't enough speak Tamil to really get the dialog 2. The movies here are never less than 3 hours long, so missing the first hour is similar to missing the first 10 minutes of a Western movie... No, not that type of western). We sat down and began to work out the details of the plot. After 10 minutes into our sitting, I hear a hawking loogie-esque noise from behind me.

Ever get sick of our repetitive bitching, moaning and smug-ass traveler inside jokes? Here are two additional travel-blogging India voices for you to enjoy:

PlannetMars.blogspot.com
Our friend Marcella from Spain. She's a self-proclaimed "Meher Baba lover", but don't hold that against her. We hung out with her in Kochi, she's really a sweet person and takes great pictures. I took the picture of her and the elephant that looks like it is actually going to rip her head off. He's actually a boy... But be careful with your n's and try not to visit planetmars dot blogspot dot com. Please avoid it.

Chart and Waters
Yes, dear friends, it is the long lost Gabriella Marcus. And she's ripping shit up in the subcontinent. Gabi is the bestest writer I know besides me, but she is slightly crazy. We love her anyways and so will you. M and I are threatening to take over her blog's comments section... but she hasn't written us back yet. I can't imagine why.

Don't forget the old favorites:

Monica in the WorldOur friend Monica is "In the world," so looky out all you metal poles. We miss you Mon! Good luck rocking things in Thailand and Laos and China.

Debra in India
Debra (like Zebra with a D) is a film-maker in Bangalore. She and her French mad-scientist husband Giles like it there. They infrequently post about frequenting pizza hut and fixinating macintosh computers.

Yes, somebody spit on my arm during the movie. I am not easily enraged, but this time I turned around in a fury and pointed to a drunk looking guy a few rows behind us. I pointed to my arm and at him. I shook my head, wiped the spit from my arm and attempted to throw it in his general direction.

During the intermission I stared at him and gave him a "mean mug." Then hit him with the patented "gas face." I was on fire. I had to cool down with a bag of Mysore Masala popcorn and a cold drink to suppress urges of returning the favor.

As we walked back in to the theater I looked up a the balcony. Below the balcony, the 4 to 5 rows of seats were empty. As the second half of the movie began, I grabbed M's hand and lead her to the occupied front of the hall. I heard spitting noises and waited for the landing of someone's spit on my head, but I was right. I followed local customs and sat out of spitting distance from the assholes in the balcony.

This tale is just another caste system refuge case. Balcony tickets are RS 35 and floor seats are RS 25. The brahmin in the balcony think that they can just spit on the dalits on the floor. I wish I could have apologized to the drunk guy. He looked like he needed a hug.