Our first day in Hyderabad was guaranteed to be a long one, because we had to do 95% of our remaining India preproduction by the time we went to sleep that night.
Since the Green Park is a hotel meant primarily for businessmen, a breakfast buffet was included. I know a buffet isn't the best way to taste local cuisine, but I saw it as a great compromise between blindly ordering from a menu (not knowing what to expect when the server brought the food) and chickening out with Western food. Plus, buffets allow for sampling, which greatly decreases the risk and embarrassment of Unpleasant First Bite Face (and since we were eating with Rob, I was a little more aware of this). I scooped small, neat piles of rice and vegetable dishes, like upma and bisi bele bath onto my plate, along with corn and mutton idly.
A van was sent to pick us up at the hotel and take the three of us to the Andhra Pradesh Productivity Council's Hyderabad headquarters, which also house the CMU Information Centre and some computer companies. We had to take all of our equipment with us, but by this time we were reasonably comfortable lugging everything around. Of course, as soon as we approached the van, the driver wordlessly took everything out of our hands to load it into the back. He didn't make eye contact, and didn't even look up when I thanked him. It's unnerving to be served like that, and I don't think I can fully explain how every new instance of it made me so uncomfortable.
Each time we sat down in a vehicle, we had a new experience of what it was like to get around India. The drivers that had been arranged for us seemed to fit into a hierarchy based on the level of terror induced by the ride. Our driver this morning was the same we had the previous night on the trip from the airport, so the ride was relatively smooth and stops were gentle. At the time, of course, it felt like he was weaving crazily and stopping just short of ramming us into idling cars. The traffic in Hyderabad was jam-packed, and we saw how motorcycles and scooters were preferable to larger vehicles. On some roads, they made up 2/3 of the traffic, and even when the lights were red, motorcycles jockeyed for a slightly closer position. They were like buzzing insects, constantly moving. Some intersections had traffic police stationed in kiosks to monitor violations, but we had to wonder how they would be able to catch someone in that kind of traffic (as it turns out, cameras and e-tickets). Pursuit would be nearly impossible.
Upon arriving at the APPC building, we were greeted and given bouquets of roses again. Then we were given a tour of the place, which served as our first round of location scouting so we could get all of the shots we needed (especially the India shots that were supposed to look like somewhere other than the CMUIC). The building was five or six stories tall (the top two floors were unfinished) with one or two companies on each floor. The main floor, where the APPC is located, has one large office with a few smaller offices and alcoves with desks in them for some of the staff. The rest of the employees worked at rows of desks with computers on them. We were introduced to every single person working there--about 25-30 in all.
Have you ever been introduced to thirty people, one at a time? It's an odd experience. There was little hope that we'd remember even a fraction of the names we were told, but it was helpful for them to see us so they wouldn't wonder what we were doing in their building for the rest of the week. They were gracious and welcoming, even though Aaron and I were just two white people with some camera equipment, suddenly standing in an office building in India.
Next we sat down with two of the APPC's administrators to talk about the Council's mission and goals, which was one of the most interesting conversations I've ever had because we learned so much about India in general and the state of Andhra Pradesh in particular. Much of what the APPC does is linked to economic and entrepreneurial development, but there's a huge focus on the development of human resources, especially in terms of education. Call me a nerd, but I can listen to people discuss education all day long, especially over cookies and Fanta orange.
In our discussions of Andhra Pradesh and Hyderabad, we were told that the region has excellent (and very spicy) food. We had lunch at a restaurant called Southern Spice, and the name alone had me panicking a little. Here we go, I thought. A spicy meal in India is going to make me cry, and that's going to be really embarrassing. Even though the menus are printed in English, our companions spoke English, and the waitstaff seemed to have a good command of English, ordering was tricky because most items were labeled with a name and a very simple explanation that didn't reveal much about what was actually in the food. Spice was never mentioned. Ingredients remained a mystery.
For the picky and non-adventurous, it was a gamble. Rob asked about some fish on the menu. "What's the sauce like?" he asked. "Is it spicy?"
"Not too spicy," our waiter said. Unfortunately, that was his default answer. Rob asked them to make the fish without any sauce on it. The waiter nodded.
Aaron and I were a little more conflicted in our ordering, as Aaron is both slightly picky and not-too-adventurous. He was also still quite concerned about getting sick. I had stupidly adopted a "NOTHING CAN HURT ME!" attitude, but that didn't help me understand what any of the menu items were. We asked the waiters a lot of questions. We struggled with the unclear answers. In the end, we settled on Chinese food, which seems to be quite popular in India.
When our food came, Rob let us try his fish, which was in a mildly spicy sauce. We shared our chicken, which was in a red, burn-your-lips-off spicy sauce that made Rob cry a little. I thought he must be exaggerating, but the initial bite coated my tongue in a blanket of hot. Unlike other spicy food I've suffered through, however, this wasn't about pain--it was just heat, and it faded rather quickly. In fact, the sauce would have been delicious, had it not also been chock-full of cilantro leaves. Oh, the soap-tasting humanity. I filled up on vegetarian soup and chicken fried rice instead.
The rest of the afternoon was spent at the CMUIC for preproduction. We rearranged the furniture and displayed the CMU paraphernalia Rob had brought with him, including some banners, pennants, and a new clock. A light kit had been rented for us, so we blocked out our shots and figured out how to make the best use of the room's two windows, the fluorescent fixtures and the diffused incandescents in the kit lights. Since Rob had to meet with some students regarding CMU's graduate programs, we were shuffled over to Dr. Reddi's office to finalize our shot list and make a list of the props we'd need to buy that night so we could shoot the next day.
And then Aaron had an unfortunate post-meal incident I cannot discuss. I will only say that we were prepared.
As the afternoon wore on into the evening, Rob and Vinay (the CMUIC advisor) were ready to take us shopping for props. Our task was to transform the slightly bland and mildly industrial CMUIC into a prospective student's living room, where she would discuss her education options with her parents. We had a couch, two chairs, and a glass coffee table to work with, so we set out to the mall with a list that included curtains, a rug, a vase, a lamp, and some throw pillows.
The mall was like a very large department store, spanning several floors of the building and divided into merchandise categories. We had to go through security scanners to enter the building (with, once again, a separate curtained-off area for women). In a country that constantly challenges the senses, the mall was another form of sensory overload: the displays were bright and crammed with merchandise; the music was loud, pulsating; salespeople wove their way into the crowds; and the colors were exaggeratedly bright. It was like the vision of consumerism I'd first noticed growing up in the late 1980s and early 1990s had been reanimated, but with a foreign flavor. There was so much there, screaming to be purchased, and crowds of people with that adrenaline-infused, slightly glassy stare of want glinting in their eyes.
We were here on business, though, so I couldn't let myself get distracted by every fascinating detail. I couldn't buy anything for myself (or for others--I so badly wanted to find the perfect turquoise sari for Allison Joseph). And even though we had a list, a set of directives guiding us through the towering displays and labyrinthine halls of stuff, it took us forever to find the right items. We had to try to make an office look like a home, but we also had to think about the way these props would photograph. We had to think about matching color and pattern but also textures, reflectivity, saturation, the scale of the pattern in relation to other elements. It's definitely not how we normally think about furnishings.
Somewhere between one store and the next, I had developed a strange rash on my arm. It was a little red, a little bumpy, and a little itchy--and unlike any contact dermatitis I had ever had. It was only on one arm, so I went to the restroom to wash it and (maybe) prevent it from spreading. All I needed was to wake up in the morning with my left arm red, swollen to twice its normal size, and completely unusable. We finished up at the mall and had the driver take us to a pharmacy, since I had somehow neglected to pack any kind of Benadryl in my gigantic toiletry/first-aid kit.
The pharmacy was marked with a green plus sign, like the ones I had grown accustomed to (but had never visited) in Rome. It was tiny, with most merchandise behind the counter and two pharmacy clerks there to help. I was very grateful to have Vinay with us, since the pharmacist spoke Telugu and I didn't recognize the brands on the shelves. I held up my arm to show the pharmacist, and he gave me a tube of something called Fourderm. It was a white cream and smelled vaguely medicinal (I still can't figure out what it reminds me of), but it didn't contain hydrocortisone. I paid my rupees and fervently hoped I wouldn't have a bad reaction to the cream, since my skin does not act like other people's skin. In fact, my skin sometimes decides to react to things that were once safe, like laundry detergent and certain fabrics. I can only imagine what my immune system was going through.
By this time, it had been dark for hours and I was ready to be in a quiet place, alone. But first we had to go back to the CMUIC to set up the props for the living room scene, and we managed to do that in about 20 minutes. I think we were all ready to go back to the hotel, to come up for air. None of us had even eaten dinner, because we had all been so busy working on the video project (and Rob and Vinay had meetings with students).
At least the work was getting done.
Showing posts with label production day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label production day. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Elephanta Island
One of the few tourist excursions we had planned for our India trip was a visit to Elephanta Island, a historical site on an island in the Mumbai harbor. The caves were used as temples and have carvings depicting Hindu gods; the island itself is named for a gigantic basalt elephant statue (which is now in a museum). Although we were still officially working, and hoping to get some interesting video and photos to use in the project, it was also a chance to have some fun.
We were about to buy tickets from one of the ferry companies with a booth near the Gateway, and found out that the caves are closed on Mondays. Rob had been there before, and assured us there would still be plenty to see, so we paid the fare. Indian tourist attractions have a pricing structure based on nationality, with foreigners paying about five times more than locals for admission to historical sites. It was still quite inexpensive for all of us. I kind of like that locals have to pay less, because it makes these sites more accessible to the general population.
Since the island is about six miles out into the harbor, we had an hour-long boat ride. Photography is not allowed on the boats (by order of the Indian navy), so we didn't take pictures or video on the ride because we are serious rule-followers. Of course, that didn't stop Indians from using their cell phones--especially when a group of seagulls flew alongside the boat, eating the chips some kids threw to them.
Even though I knew to expect to see pollution and garbage in the water, it shocked me when boat passengers threw their empty water and soda bottles, chip bags, and snack wrappers overboard. It was like a reflex, completely automatic. There was an empty, unused trash can on the boat.
We disembarked onto a small concrete ledge, walked up some steps and were on the pier leading to the island itself. This was the closest we were going to get to the great outdoors on the entire trip, since we were planning to spend the rest of our time in Hyderabad (the 4th most populous city in India). Rob and Biplab stopped to buy cold drinks from a booth on the pier, and then we started the long walk to the stairs leading to the archeological park.
We could have taken the train instead of walking, but we weren't really tired at this point and we wanted to be able to take pictures. The train reminded us of Deer Acres back home.
We were greeted by very friendly stray dogs, which tested my willpower regarding my self-imposed "Don't Pet Anything" rule. I think animals seek me out because they can tell that I would take them home with me if I could, and at the very least I will pet them and share my food. The only exception to my benevolence? Snakes. Good thing I didn't see any on the island.
The island has year-round residents, many of whom make their living in part by getting visitors to buy merchandise from their stands. The vendors here sold snacks, hats, clothing, jewelry, statues, toys and a lot of other souvenir items. Everything was reasonably priced, though the quality of items varied widely from one booth to the next. I was completely enchanted, though. I absolutely love buying things from street vendors. I've always been attracted to yard sales, flea markets, thrift stores, etc. because you never really know what's going to be there, and if you don't like the prices you can move on to the next booth.
After this first vendor-gauntlet, we came to a paved area that was a little more open than the previous paths, and I nearly had a heart attack of joy because I saw cows, goats, dogs, and monkeys on the loose and mingling with the crowd. Giving me access to animals is like giving Red Bull to a kid with ADHD--terrifying, slightly dangerous, but hilarious. I wanted to play fetch with the dogs.
I wanted to stare into the rectangular pupils of the goats.
I wanted to pet the cows.
I wanted to high-five the monkeys. All of this, ALL AT ONCE. I know, I am a child. But I've never seen monkeys in the wild, and this was the closest we would get to having an Indiana Jones moment in India.
The sign the monkey is sitting on explains that the island finally got electricity in May of 1989, which helped us maintain a little perspective regarding the infrastructure of India, especially in relation to its population. I was consistently, acutely aware of the differences between India and the U.S., and I have to say that I have great respect for so many aspects of everyday life in India.
I had been warned by various sources that the main crime I had to be concerned about in India was pickpocketing in crowded tourist areas. These monkeys were actually the closest experience we had with petty theft. They were everywhere along the path, jumping from one ledge or building to the next like little acrobats.
I was mostly afraid they would leap onto my back after a trip across one of the tarp ropes. I also didn't know if they would have any interest in the camera.
We watched monkeys snatch drink bottles from people. Some were unsuspecting, but others were willing participants in the monkey-thefts. Biplab's lemonade was only half-empty when it was snatched from him.
And this little guy was guarding his roasted field corn, because there were bigger, badder monkeys nearby. He's sitting on some chairs with long bamboo poles attached to them, which are used to carry tourists up to the caves (for a fee).
This was the monkey-in-chief, apparently. I was slightly afraid of him, because he looked downright menacing when he was picking his teeth and glaring at me. He also swung into the trees above my head and landed on the ledge right next to my elbow in a matter of seconds.
Since it was heading into the late afternoon, many of the booths along the stairway were already closed for the day. And had we known this would be one of our only opportunities to buy inexpensive souvenirs in Mumbai, we probably would have looked more carefully and thoughtfully at what was available. It's hard to think of these things when you're suppressing jetlag. And when you have a long, steep climb to make.
Although some of the stalls sold cheap plastic junk, there were some with handmade items, like this jewelry stand.
Even though the caves and most of the vendors were closed, I still enjoyed trekking up to the top of the hill. Every experience in India was like a gift, and I felt like there was no room for griping or feeling ungrateful, no matter the circumstances. The idea of being there at all was incredible, and I kept reminding myself that since this wasn't a vacation, I had to be content with the moments I had that were vacationish.
Those stairs to the top of the hill seemed to go on forever. They also became progressively steep, which proved challenging for our exhausted (and out of shape) bodies. Finally, we made it all the way up to look at a closed gate. Rob thought we would at least be able to go into the area near the caves, but everything at the top was closed.
We were thirsty, and a bit sweaty. I paused near the gate to look at the crows convened in the trees above me, and was promptly shat on. Rob followed some men down a trail, only to find that it ended abruptly at a trash-filled ravine, and people were pissing over the edge of it. I could have been annoyed with all of this, but then I turned around and peered through a gap in the foliage to see how far we had come:
Going back down the hill was certainly easier, especially since we decided to buy cold bottles of Sprite and stop in at one of the more established shops to look at carved statues. Although I love haggling and bargaining, I was a little out of practice, so Biplab helped me negotiate with the shopkeeper. I ended up getting an ebony wood elephant for several hundred rupees less than the asking price. Knowing that it had a long journey, the shopkeeper wrapped it in several layers of newspaper and some bubble wrap.
We didn't buy anything else at the shop, although we were sorely tempted by this:
I was under the impression that heat, sunlight, and humidity were bad for film, but what do I know? I didn't check the expiration dates.
When we got to the bottom of the hill, Biplab insisted we take the train to shorten the walk. He was met with no resistance from us, since our calves were beginning to ache from our extended Stairmaster session. We crammed ourselves into the remaining seats at the back of the train. It was an extremely uncomfortable ride, but definitely worth the 5 rupees.
On the ferry ride back to the mainland, we half-slept and enjoyed the slight breeze. We watched the sun start to sink. A submarine surfaced and made its way to port. And then, as we were about to get off the boat, Biplab reached for his phone and couldn't find it. We looked around, and realized we were sitting right above a grate that vented the engine compartment. The phone had slipped out of his hands and fallen below decks, into a puddle. Sigh.
At least the elephant is happy living in my china cabinet.
We were about to buy tickets from one of the ferry companies with a booth near the Gateway, and found out that the caves are closed on Mondays. Rob had been there before, and assured us there would still be plenty to see, so we paid the fare. Indian tourist attractions have a pricing structure based on nationality, with foreigners paying about five times more than locals for admission to historical sites. It was still quite inexpensive for all of us. I kind of like that locals have to pay less, because it makes these sites more accessible to the general population.
Since the island is about six miles out into the harbor, we had an hour-long boat ride. Photography is not allowed on the boats (by order of the Indian navy), so we didn't take pictures or video on the ride because we are serious rule-followers. Of course, that didn't stop Indians from using their cell phones--especially when a group of seagulls flew alongside the boat, eating the chips some kids threw to them.
Tourist Ferry Boats
Even though I knew to expect to see pollution and garbage in the water, it shocked me when boat passengers threw their empty water and soda bottles, chip bags, and snack wrappers overboard. It was like a reflex, completely automatic. There was an empty, unused trash can on the boat.
We disembarked onto a small concrete ledge, walked up some steps and were on the pier leading to the island itself. This was the closest we were going to get to the great outdoors on the entire trip, since we were planning to spend the rest of our time in Hyderabad (the 4th most populous city in India). Rob and Biplab stopped to buy cold drinks from a booth on the pier, and then we started the long walk to the stairs leading to the archeological park.
Rob: "You don't have any Mountain Dew? Okay, Coke."
We could have taken the train instead of walking, but we weren't really tired at this point and we wanted to be able to take pictures. The train reminded us of Deer Acres back home.
We were greeted by very friendly stray dogs, which tested my willpower regarding my self-imposed "Don't Pet Anything" rule. I think animals seek me out because they can tell that I would take them home with me if I could, and at the very least I will pet them and share my food. The only exception to my benevolence? Snakes. Good thing I didn't see any on the island.
The island has year-round residents, many of whom make their living in part by getting visitors to buy merchandise from their stands. The vendors here sold snacks, hats, clothing, jewelry, statues, toys and a lot of other souvenir items. Everything was reasonably priced, though the quality of items varied widely from one booth to the next. I was completely enchanted, though. I absolutely love buying things from street vendors. I've always been attracted to yard sales, flea markets, thrift stores, etc. because you never really know what's going to be there, and if you don't like the prices you can move on to the next booth.
After this first vendor-gauntlet, we came to a paved area that was a little more open than the previous paths, and I nearly had a heart attack of joy because I saw cows, goats, dogs, and monkeys on the loose and mingling with the crowd. Giving me access to animals is like giving Red Bull to a kid with ADHD--terrifying, slightly dangerous, but hilarious. I wanted to play fetch with the dogs.
I wanted to stare into the rectangular pupils of the goats.
I wanted to high-five the monkeys. All of this, ALL AT ONCE. I know, I am a child. But I've never seen monkeys in the wild, and this was the closest we would get to having an Indiana Jones moment in India.
The sign the monkey is sitting on explains that the island finally got electricity in May of 1989, which helped us maintain a little perspective regarding the infrastructure of India, especially in relation to its population. I was consistently, acutely aware of the differences between India and the U.S., and I have to say that I have great respect for so many aspects of everyday life in India.
I had been warned by various sources that the main crime I had to be concerned about in India was pickpocketing in crowded tourist areas. These monkeys were actually the closest experience we had with petty theft. They were everywhere along the path, jumping from one ledge or building to the next like little acrobats.
I was mostly afraid they would leap onto my back after a trip across one of the tarp ropes. I also didn't know if they would have any interest in the camera.
We watched monkeys snatch drink bottles from people. Some were unsuspecting, but others were willing participants in the monkey-thefts. Biplab's lemonade was only half-empty when it was snatched from him.
And this little guy was guarding his roasted field corn, because there were bigger, badder monkeys nearby. He's sitting on some chairs with long bamboo poles attached to them, which are used to carry tourists up to the caves (for a fee).
This was the monkey-in-chief, apparently. I was slightly afraid of him, because he looked downright menacing when he was picking his teeth and glaring at me. He also swung into the trees above my head and landed on the ledge right next to my elbow in a matter of seconds.
Since it was heading into the late afternoon, many of the booths along the stairway were already closed for the day. And had we known this would be one of our only opportunities to buy inexpensive souvenirs in Mumbai, we probably would have looked more carefully and thoughtfully at what was available. It's hard to think of these things when you're suppressing jetlag. And when you have a long, steep climb to make.
Although some of the stalls sold cheap plastic junk, there were some with handmade items, like this jewelry stand.
Even though the caves and most of the vendors were closed, I still enjoyed trekking up to the top of the hill. Every experience in India was like a gift, and I felt like there was no room for griping or feeling ungrateful, no matter the circumstances. The idea of being there at all was incredible, and I kept reminding myself that since this wasn't a vacation, I had to be content with the moments I had that were vacationish.
Those stairs to the top of the hill seemed to go on forever. They also became progressively steep, which proved challenging for our exhausted (and out of shape) bodies. Finally, we made it all the way up to look at a closed gate. Rob thought we would at least be able to go into the area near the caves, but everything at the top was closed.
We were thirsty, and a bit sweaty. I paused near the gate to look at the crows convened in the trees above me, and was promptly shat on. Rob followed some men down a trail, only to find that it ended abruptly at a trash-filled ravine, and people were pissing over the edge of it. I could have been annoyed with all of this, but then I turned around and peered through a gap in the foliage to see how far we had come:
Going back down the hill was certainly easier, especially since we decided to buy cold bottles of Sprite and stop in at one of the more established shops to look at carved statues. Although I love haggling and bargaining, I was a little out of practice, so Biplab helped me negotiate with the shopkeeper. I ended up getting an ebony wood elephant for several hundred rupees less than the asking price. Knowing that it had a long journey, the shopkeeper wrapped it in several layers of newspaper and some bubble wrap.
We didn't buy anything else at the shop, although we were sorely tempted by this:
I was under the impression that heat, sunlight, and humidity were bad for film, but what do I know? I didn't check the expiration dates.
When we got to the bottom of the hill, Biplab insisted we take the train to shorten the walk. He was met with no resistance from us, since our calves were beginning to ache from our extended Stairmaster session. We crammed ourselves into the remaining seats at the back of the train. It was an extremely uncomfortable ride, but definitely worth the 5 rupees.
On the ferry ride back to the mainland, we half-slept and enjoyed the slight breeze. We watched the sun start to sink. A submarine surfaced and made its way to port. And then, as we were about to get off the boat, Biplab reached for his phone and couldn't find it. We looked around, and realized we were sitting right above a grate that vented the engine compartment. The phone had slipped out of his hands and fallen below decks, into a puddle. Sigh.
At least the elephant is happy living in my china cabinet.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Production: Day 1
Our first full day in India was also our only full day in Mumbai. It was also our only chance to complete all of the shooting with our celebrity host, Biplab. I'm not being cheeky when I call him a celebrity--he's famous in India. And if you can achieve fame in a country with over a billion people, you must be a stand-out guy (which he is).
Once we finished breakfast, we went back to our room to gather our production equipment. Remember, we were going for minimalist-professional here:
We met Rob and Biplab in the lobby, then headed out past the security checkpoint to our first daylight encounter with Mumbai. Leaving the hotel is much easier than getting in, but during the day it is more apparent just how seriously they take security at the Taj, because there were at least 12 security guards, bellmen, and other hotel employees stationed outside the building to watch foot and vehicle traffic. Unlike the security personnel we'd encountered at the various airports along the way, these men made eye contact and greeted us, which puts people at ease rather than making them feel like criminals. It also reminded me that while we were safe in the hotel, anything could happen on the streets. It's not that we expected anything bad to happen, we just had to keep in mind that we needed to look out for ourselves.
The street outside the hotel isn't a busy one, but there was still quite a bit of noise: car horns, horse-drawn carriages (very touristy and all parked near the Taj), vendors selling various types of food and souvenirs, the rasp of brooms from the sanitation workers in the square, pigeons, boats in the harbor. We had expected that it would be hot (the forecast was for 80-90 degrees every day), but since it wasn't humid and there was a slight breeze, the weather was quite comfortable.
Because of changes to security after the terrorist attacks in Mumbai, the entire square around the Gateway of India is fenced in with metal barricades. The single entrance, which is on the opposite side of the square from the Taj, is guarded by military/police personnel, and there are separate lines for men and women. We walked along the sidewalk outside the square through an assortment of beggars, vendors, tourists, and taxi drivers ready to snare people for tours of the slums.
We walked into the middle of the square, with the Gateway directly behind Biplab, and began setting up. A non-uniformed man immediately approached us, telling us that the tripod wasn't allowed. We explained that we absolutely needed it, so Biplab began negotiating on our behalf in Hindi. The conversation was just long enough for us to finish setting up the equipment, but we felt rushed and not fully prepared. It was a little frustrating, but in the moment we knew we would have to work quickly to get all of the shots we needed. Biplab turned to us, informing us we had 10-15 minutes before we'd have to pack it up. The man hovered nearby.
We made the most of our limited time, attempting to get as many good takes as possible before were were forced to shut it down. Biplab's professionalism went a long way in making the shoot go well, because he was as concerned with the quality as we were.
Our equipment often earned us some curious glances; at times, people would stand behind me or Aaron to look at the LCD screen on the camera to see what we were shooting--especially when it was video. Sometimes, we'd look up and they'd instantly look away. We'd often invite people to come closer, to get a better look. People were genuinely curious but also very friendly.
Not a Green Screen!
The final part of our shoot took place on the roof of the Taj (well, on top of the lobby, actually). Rob and Biplab wrangled us special permission with the PR department of the hotel, and they let us set up in an outdoor banquet area with a great view of the Gateway.
All in all, it was a good first day of shooting. We were given permission to do things that we probably shouldn't have been allowed to do. I suspect Biplab's negotiation skills were a contributing factor in all that.
The day wasn't over, though--we still had some shooting to do on Elephanta Island. That part didn't work out quite so well, but it was one of the only touristy things we were able to do while in Mumbai, so it will get its own post.
Once we finished breakfast, we went back to our room to gather our production equipment. Remember, we were going for minimalist-professional here:
- Two cameras
- Three lenses
- Filters
- A tripod
- iPad
- Microphone
- Audio recorder
- XLR cable
- Headphones
- Shot list
We met Rob and Biplab in the lobby, then headed out past the security checkpoint to our first daylight encounter with Mumbai. Leaving the hotel is much easier than getting in, but during the day it is more apparent just how seriously they take security at the Taj, because there were at least 12 security guards, bellmen, and other hotel employees stationed outside the building to watch foot and vehicle traffic. Unlike the security personnel we'd encountered at the various airports along the way, these men made eye contact and greeted us, which puts people at ease rather than making them feel like criminals. It also reminded me that while we were safe in the hotel, anything could happen on the streets. It's not that we expected anything bad to happen, we just had to keep in mind that we needed to look out for ourselves.
The street outside the hotel isn't a busy one, but there was still quite a bit of noise: car horns, horse-drawn carriages (very touristy and all parked near the Taj), vendors selling various types of food and souvenirs, the rasp of brooms from the sanitation workers in the square, pigeons, boats in the harbor. We had expected that it would be hot (the forecast was for 80-90 degrees every day), but since it wasn't humid and there was a slight breeze, the weather was quite comfortable.
Because of changes to security after the terrorist attacks in Mumbai, the entire square around the Gateway of India is fenced in with metal barricades. The single entrance, which is on the opposite side of the square from the Taj, is guarded by military/police personnel, and there are separate lines for men and women. We walked along the sidewalk outside the square through an assortment of beggars, vendors, tourists, and taxi drivers ready to snare people for tours of the slums.
We walked into the middle of the square, with the Gateway directly behind Biplab, and began setting up. A non-uniformed man immediately approached us, telling us that the tripod wasn't allowed. We explained that we absolutely needed it, so Biplab began negotiating on our behalf in Hindi. The conversation was just long enough for us to finish setting up the equipment, but we felt rushed and not fully prepared. It was a little frustrating, but in the moment we knew we would have to work quickly to get all of the shots we needed. Biplab turned to us, informing us we had 10-15 minutes before we'd have to pack it up. The man hovered nearby.
We made the most of our limited time, attempting to get as many good takes as possible before were were forced to shut it down. Biplab's professionalism went a long way in making the shoot go well, because he was as concerned with the quality as we were.
The "Candid Professional" Look
After finishing that part of the shoot, we wandered the plaza to take pictures and look around.
If you're a Westerner and like yoga and/or Hinduism, it is in part due to this man, Swami Vivekananda.
Statue of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, founder of the Maratha empire and an important figure in the promotion of Hinduism.
Our equipment often earned us some curious glances; at times, people would stand behind me or Aaron to look at the LCD screen on the camera to see what we were shooting--especially when it was video. Sometimes, we'd look up and they'd instantly look away. We'd often invite people to come closer, to get a better look. People were genuinely curious but also very friendly.
Not a Green Screen!
There was a large group of pigeons in the corner of the plaza, and we took turns getting near them. Despite my utter loathing for pigeons (I had some bad pigeon experiences in Rome and Venice), I posed for a few shots. I also tried to chase them. I tried to catch them. I failed.
After we finished this part of the shoot, we went back to our rooms so Biplab could change his clothes and we could save our footage. I had been carrying around the lock from one of our suitcases in my pocket, and had somehow managed to change the combination. I didn't know that when I put it back on Aaron's suitcase, but he soon found out when he tried to get out the laptop.
"1...2...3...4...5? That's the stupidest combination I've ever heard in my life! That's the kind of thing an idiot would have on his luggage!
Don't worry, it only took him about 20 minutes to get into it. Sorry, Aaron!
Another part of the shoot involved renting a tourist ferry so we could film the host segments with the Taj and Gateway of India in the background. Rob and Biplab handled booking the boat, working with a friendly guy in a peach silk shirt. We worked it out so we would have about an hour on the water, and we were able to tell the pilot exactly where to "park" for the ideal shots.
The boat shoot proved challenging, in that we had to compensate for both noise and motion. Every once in awhile, a helicopter would fly overhead; we also had the sounds of boat motors. In two instances, we had to wait for a motley crew team in a barely-seaworthy boat to row by, complete with shouted commands and chanting. The ferry boats to Elephanta Island and other large boats produced wakes that made it difficult to stand. Since the Maharashtra State Police Headquarters are located to the right of the Gateway, we had to be careful not to shoot in that direction both in the plaza and on the boat.
All in all, it was a good first day of shooting. We were given permission to do things that we probably shouldn't have been allowed to do. I suspect Biplab's negotiation skills were a contributing factor in all that.
The day wasn't over, though--we still had some shooting to do on Elephanta Island. That part didn't work out quite so well, but it was one of the only touristy things we were able to do while in Mumbai, so it will get its own post.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Breakfast of Indians
We got up around 6:30 on what was, somehow, January 16th. It felt like we had lost about a week in transit, so it was disorienting to know that it was, in fact, Monday and that we would complete a significant portion of our production that day.
One of the benefits of being so sleep deprived and traveling through so many time zones is that when you do finally sleep, it is immensely restorative. Giving in to the exhaustion and jetlag was not an option, anyway, since we had so much to do.
We had a "seaview" room on the 4th floor with our own screened-in balcony overlooking the Gateway of India and the Arabian Sea, and this fact made it extremely pleasant to wake up in the morning. This was our first view of Mumbai in the daylight:
Getting ready involved slathering ourselves with both sunscreen and mosquito repellent, dressing in long sleeves and pants, and putting on shoes with good traction, since we would spend a portion of the day on a boat and a few hours on an island. I pulled a George Costanza and wore my Timberlands (and yes, they did make me look taller).
At 7:00, we went downstairs to meet Rob and our Indian celebrity host for the video, Biplab Ganguli. We needed to go over portions of the script and plan out how, where, and when we would be shooting that day, and make sure that we were ready (more on that in subsequent posts). We met at Shamiana, the "coffee shop" (casual-dining restaurant) right off the lobby, for a buffet-style breakfast. This was our first encounter with Indian food, and we were nervous because we didn't know what to expect from an Indian breakfast. Everything was labeled, but that didn't really help because we still didn't know what was in it, whether it was savory or sweet, or even how it should be eaten (Was it finger-food? Should we use silverware?).
I've always considered myself a relatively adventurous eater, and when
I'm in a foreign country, I figure I should take my chances and eat the local food. I have had a few bad experiences from not knowing the language, most notably in Naples, when I ordered a thin-crust pizza only knowing three out of four toppings. Ten years later, I still know that "alici" are anchovies. In India, my biggest fears were spiciness and improperly washed produce. The former was something I could deal with; the latter would hamper our production schedule, and we couldn't have that.
Aaron is definitely not an adventurous eater. He isn't picky, exactly, he just has a strong sense of what he likes (and dislikes) and tends not to deviate from that. I make fun of him because every time we eat at Big Boy, he orders fish and chips. He looks at the menu, but he always orders the same thing. He also needs to know what ingredients are in his food, in case there's one or more ingredients he strongly dislikes--a sentiment I share, to a certain extent (we'll talk about cilantro, anise, and cloves in a future post). Like me, though, his biggest concern was illness, since we had read on numerous websites that even in upscale restaurants, there was still the possibility of contracting an illness from the water used in food preparation.
There were some typical American breakfast foods on the buffet: French toast, home fries, eggs, chicken sausage, bacon, oatmeal, cold cereal, and fresh fruit. Rob and Aaron seemed to stick to the familiar. I took a little bit of everything and ate with gusto, because once I started eating I realized just how hungry I was.
Everything I ate was delicious (and this was by no means the tastiest meal we had). I had banana sheera, which was sweet and kind of like oatmeal, but smoother and thicker. I ate something crusted with some kind of legume. The chicken sausage had really interesting spices in it--a faint burn at first, and then a second wave of flavor. We drank fresh-squeezed juice. I joined the clean plate club. I just wish I had brought a pen with me to write down the names of the things I ate, because I'd love to get an Indian cookbook and make some of the dishes here.
A lot of our dining experiences in India involved filling our plates with unfamiliar foods, taking a test bite, letting all of the flavors and textures register for a minute, and (usually) digging in eagerly. Everything was an experiment.
One of the benefits of being so sleep deprived and traveling through so many time zones is that when you do finally sleep, it is immensely restorative. Giving in to the exhaustion and jetlag was not an option, anyway, since we had so much to do.
We had a "seaview" room on the 4th floor with our own screened-in balcony overlooking the Gateway of India and the Arabian Sea, and this fact made it extremely pleasant to wake up in the morning. This was our first view of Mumbai in the daylight:
 |
| Smoggy but stunning! |
Getting ready involved slathering ourselves with both sunscreen and mosquito repellent, dressing in long sleeves and pants, and putting on shoes with good traction, since we would spend a portion of the day on a boat and a few hours on an island. I pulled a George Costanza and wore my Timberlands (and yes, they did make me look taller).
At 7:00, we went downstairs to meet Rob and our Indian celebrity host for the video, Biplab Ganguli. We needed to go over portions of the script and plan out how, where, and when we would be shooting that day, and make sure that we were ready (more on that in subsequent posts). We met at Shamiana, the "coffee shop" (casual-dining restaurant) right off the lobby, for a buffet-style breakfast. This was our first encounter with Indian food, and we were nervous because we didn't know what to expect from an Indian breakfast. Everything was labeled, but that didn't really help because we still didn't know what was in it, whether it was savory or sweet, or even how it should be eaten (Was it finger-food? Should we use silverware?).
 |
| Here's someone else's slightly blurry picture of the restaurant. Shamiana is a kind of tent used for weddings, parties, and feasts, so the fabric draped around the light fixture is meant to evoke that. |
Aaron is definitely not an adventurous eater. He isn't picky, exactly, he just has a strong sense of what he likes (and dislikes) and tends not to deviate from that. I make fun of him because every time we eat at Big Boy, he orders fish and chips. He looks at the menu, but he always orders the same thing. He also needs to know what ingredients are in his food, in case there's one or more ingredients he strongly dislikes--a sentiment I share, to a certain extent (we'll talk about cilantro, anise, and cloves in a future post). Like me, though, his biggest concern was illness, since we had read on numerous websites that even in upscale restaurants, there was still the possibility of contracting an illness from the water used in food preparation.
There were some typical American breakfast foods on the buffet: French toast, home fries, eggs, chicken sausage, bacon, oatmeal, cold cereal, and fresh fruit. Rob and Aaron seemed to stick to the familiar. I took a little bit of everything and ate with gusto, because once I started eating I realized just how hungry I was.
Everything I ate was delicious (and this was by no means the tastiest meal we had). I had banana sheera, which was sweet and kind of like oatmeal, but smoother and thicker. I ate something crusted with some kind of legume. The chicken sausage had really interesting spices in it--a faint burn at first, and then a second wave of flavor. We drank fresh-squeezed juice. I joined the clean plate club. I just wish I had brought a pen with me to write down the names of the things I ate, because I'd love to get an Indian cookbook and make some of the dishes here.
A lot of our dining experiences in India involved filling our plates with unfamiliar foods, taking a test bite, letting all of the flavors and textures register for a minute, and (usually) digging in eagerly. Everything was an experiment.
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