No Americans here

  Mumbai, India
Friday, February 23, 2007

Taxi in India

I had the realization today that I haven't met a single American since coming to India. It's a bit strange as I don't think I've ever been anywhere where there wasn't an American proudly promoting their cultural identity. What's even more odd is that I am surrounded by Icelanders. When does that EVER happen except when one is in Iceland?
I'd like to hear right now something spoken in English that isn't thick with a foreign accent. That sounds awful, and something only an American would say, but I'm feeling like I'm constantly translating stuff (and half the time I can't understand what's being said).
So, I'm in a little bit of a bad mood tonight. It's Friday night, 9:00pm and I'm waiting for a client to show up at the agency for a casting. Nevermind that they we're supposed to be here two hours ago. Did I mention it's a Friday night? I need to reprogram my brain because if I was thinking like an Indian, I wouldn't be annoyed right now. Apparently, 9pm on a Friday night is a perfectly normal time to be working. The agency is open from 9am until 9pm Monday through Saturday. Our apartment is located above the agency in the same space. This fits in perfectly with their plan to work all the time, and means that the bookers are forever bursting into my room to tell me I have to be ready in five minutes (which usually means that I'll get get ready, and then sit and wait like I'm doing now.)
I had my first modeling job in India today. It was a fashion spread for a magazine, and for the most part, it went well. Here's where my annoyance comes in again, though: first thing this morning I notice that my booker had sent me a text message telling me to bring my color contacts. I think to myself, "Who the heck owns, let alone wears, color contacts?" In the states, they're pretty tacky (or at least in my humble opinion), and are relegated to a small subculture of people who wear them. I don't exactly appreciate the suggestion that my eye color needs to change. I also think that if they need a blue-eyed model, they should book a girl with blue eyes. No-brainer, right? Or, at the very least, they should use Photoshop.

Religion is Everywhere!

As I was changing into my first outfit, the art director went to put a bangle on my wrist and then stopped in horror as he spied fine growth of hair on my arm. "This simply will not do! Fine, this will work for today, but you must have it all removed immediately." Ladies and gentlemen, add another flaw to the long-list of flaws I alledgedly already have: cleft chin, wide hips, too fat, not photogenic, visible veins in my face, bad nails, and now, arm hair. Sigh. Welcome to India.
Did I mention that I'm in a bad mood tonight?

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