Destination, Reached

Ashley: Flying into Mumbai was such a strange feeling. For one, I’ve never been this far away from home. When the plane landed, Mila and I both looked at each other and just started laughing. Wow. We’re in India. As the doors opened, we waited for the offensive smell that everyone speaks of, and were surprised by a sweet sweet smell. Couldn’t tell you what it was, but I liked it. Once we got our luggage, we stepped outside to meet Mila’s family. The air outside was warm, but it wasn’t humid. It was perfect. Her family spotted all of us and everyone hugged and we piled into the cars to head to our home for the next few weeks.

The light here is simply amazing. The dust in the air gives it a golden glow at all hours of the day. It’s pretty much magic hour all freaking day. It’s a photographer’s dream.

Life here is very simple and easy going. The milk man and the vegetable man come to the house every morning. Even through the hustle and bustle of the city, there doesn’t seem to be any hurry to be anywhere. It’s quite a change of pace from Los Angeles.

As Annie would say, I think I’m gonna like it here.

mila: The doors slid open and I was greeted with the kiss of Indian air. The aroma was staggeringly reminiscent of my one time history with India in 1989… The rumors were false, there was no stench that assaulted my nose. And although it wasn’t quite the opposite, there was something to it. Something unique and indescribable. All I had to go by was memory. I remembered it and that’s what I found amazing… There is no smell like it in any other country. The fragrance lingered in the thick atmosphere… It was not quite humid or even that hot. It was just pleasant and comforting. It was three in the morning and Mumbai was quiet. The streets were empty of people and cars, only filled with stray dogs all on the hunt for company and to appease hungry stomachs. It was hard to gauge the surroundings in the nighttime… For some reason I didn’t feel the impact of being in a foreign country, it just felt normal. Then we arrived at our abode, a two story apartment in a towering eight floor building. Our driver, yes we have a driver, honked the car’s horn and a man magically appeared to open the iron gates. When I stepped out of the car another, familiar fragrance wafted in to spark more sensory memories… Only India.

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