Jet Lag, Circadian Rhythms, & Mumbai Traffic

A leisurely stroll about Bandra, Mumbai

26 March 2012

Here I am, at 1:50 in the morning, wide awake and in a mass strike of hunger consuming what I must terribly admit is cold, unsalted pasta.  Needless to say, I have yet to adjust to the nine-hour time difference (EST).  In California, where I grew up, it is 12 hours earlier: while it is early morning on Monday in India, it is mid-afternoon on Venice Beach.  Please keep this in mind if you decide to call me and er-hum, it is three o’clock in the morning.  Not that it would really matter now, as I am up, full of vigor (or vinegar?!), and ready to start the day.  I even did a little dance moving my green tea with milk and sugar for breakfast from the heated kitchen to the fanned and cooled back-room office…

Later: Today I was up and working from midnight to 9 pm.  So, so tired.  I am starting to see flurries of color around me, because my tired self is in sensory overload.  Must-get-sleep!  How long will it take for my body to re-adjust its circadian rhythm to the new time and waking hours?  My hope, surely, is soon.

28 March 2012

It is Wednesday morning in India at 5:26 am and I have already been up for an hour.  What does that say about my sleeping habits?  I don’t know, really, but at least the last two nights I have actually slept through ‘til (incredibly early) morning, rather than waking up every two hours convinced that it is break-the-fast time.  Ah, morning.  How coffee tastes so sweet!

The Bagel Store, Pali Hill

Throughout Mumbai, most local stores do not open until 10 am.  The bagel shop, which in America generally has store hours from 5:30 am to 4 pm, here runs business from 9 am to 10:30 at night.  (Yes there are bagels!)  Conversely, restaurants for the most part begin serving dinner around 7 pm, and most Indians consume the evening meal well after dark.  (Not many early bird specials, here!)  The morning hours are great for walking around because the city is quieter.  The neighborhood literally wakes up around 9 or 10 in the morning.  When we’ve walked our dogs at 7, there are only a handful of people awake and on the streets, usually including dog walkers, joggers, and the night-watch security guards surrounding most housing complexes, some cars, and shopping sectors. 

Morning and evening joggers run in less crowded areas throughout the city.

Noises in the morning are muted, and the rise of cacophonous birds calling each other to wake begins around 5:30 am, reaching its staccato crescendo at 7:30 am.  Most people’s work hours here are from 10-7, or 10-9, which is frankly more up my speed for getting work done.  For Indians working at call centers catering to US times, the work day ends at 3 am!  (Just remember that next time you get frustrated on an international helpdesk call—people here have to change their entire living schedule to cater to American needs.)  Nevertheless, driving to work in earlier hours, say before 7:30 am, means that rush-hour traffic is missed and so there is less road frenzy generally. 

In larger crowded areas, imagine an 8-lane road without designated painted lanes or traffic signals that are religiously followed.  Theoretically, four lanes of traffic going east should seamlessly roam past the four lanes of traffic moving west on the paved road’s other side.  In reality, however, if more cars at the moment are moving to the right, six of the lanes will literally become the right-of-way, until, 30 seconds later, the left side has more oncoming traffic, hence encouraging the car merging dance where three lanes of (unmarked) traffic compete for status on who goes first and in what direction.  In America, this would be equivalent to several lanes of traffic on the freeway suddenly turning around and trying to move in the opposite direction, despite cars in their lanes furiously moving directly toward them.  Uh-hmm.  The name to this driving game is thus, swerve swerve swerve and hold your nerve nerve nerve!

City buses and local transport are often creatively painted and individualized based on personal preferences, auspicious colors, and localized symbology.

So far in Mumbai, I have walked about the surrounding neighborhood three times during the day and twice throughout the evening until 9 or 10 pm.  I must say that I prefer the morning time for walking and exploring, hands down.  By evening the chaos of bright lights, swishing and honking cars, tired drivers, rushed passengers, and eager-to-sell vendors is less than favorable for a long, leisurely walk.  The later it becomes in the afternoon to early evening, the more the nightlife and general city loudness begins to come to life.  While I enjoy the hustle and bustle of a flourishing city, 22 million people is, well, a lot of people.  Having a bit of quietness here is quite the luxury, one that, I am thankful, is provided to us in our neighborhood haven the majority of the time.  Other American housing arrangements appear to be in the thick of things.  We are, comparatively, a few blocks walking from restaurants and crowded streets, making it easier to slowly ease into the joyful mayhem of vendors, street hawkers, traffic, loiterers, street sleepers, blaring radios and buzzing rickshaws.  The birds’ chirping squeaks and squawks, happy little songs, are much to my preference for a natural alarm.  Let us give thanks… and chirps.