First Day in India-Mumbai

You will get run over here. A short honk is all you will hear before you die. And it smells like shit. Not a euphemism, the smell of shit particularly burning shit, permeates the air in between periods of smelling like trash and fish, alternately.
My room is clean and smells good, or at least neutral and is very cold and dark when I turn the lights off. This worked to my disadvantage today when after being awoke by loud Muslim calls to worship, I went back to sleep figuring I would wake after a couple more hours rest. As I emerged onto the hotel balcony at 6pm, the full extent of my jet lag became apparent. Forgoing a shower, knowing the sweat and shit-smell awaiting me, I stumbled into the restaurant below. If I hadn't seen the airport last night I might have well thought I was in Cairo because of the large Muslim population in this neighborhood and the Afghani Chicken Curry was amazing. Trying the food, trying anything for that matter here is a bit nerve racking, if only for the horror stories you hear. But Afghani Chicken and another chicken kebab on the street and I'm still able to write coherently and sit upright, more than the horror-story tellers would have you believe.
Next I walked, and walked and walked because this jet lag clearly wouldn't be letting me rest any time soon and there is no better way to get to know a city than by on foot. Mumbai is a dirty, dark city at night but very active until around midnight (also not helping the jet lag, no bars open!). After walking for no more than ten minutes I found street vendors who could help me pick up a few things I intentionally left at home. Paying 20 rupees (40 cents) for an electric converter to plug my phone in (the method with which I now scribe) I'm not sure how I payed 450 for some sunglasses. 10 bucks sounds perfectly reasonable for some shades, but not here! I think the sunglass merchant's unwillingness to barter was almost endearing, reminding me of our strict MSRP way of doing things back home, although in India they have a MRP or MAXIMUM retail price. I'll let you infer what both those acronyms say about our respective cultures.
Fed up with the cheap purses, wallets, shoes, clothes, printer cartridges and bamboo smoothie stands, I made for the nearest watering hole. Still overpaying, but not unreasonably so this time, I asked my auto-rickshaw to take me to where the Europeans drink, knowing my fellow backpackers from across the pond have a knack for finding cheap booze. There I met the coolest South African couple who had much great advice about food, prices, lodging in different cities and generally how to survive here. Thanks Paul and Ally, you guys made my first night of confusion a fantastic time!
Now back at the hotel, it's 1am and I might try and adjust out of this jet-lagged haze and get some sleep. Tomorrow I take a train to the place of Buddha's enlightenment after what is sure to be an enlightening 23 hour train ride.