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This is the end. Suiting my character I will end the Helmet in India section by intertwining something funny with something devastating, some might say tragic. Train rides: one of my favorite topics.

The Bombay metro system is a known hazard to commuters. Since nothing is alike this city, train rides blend in smoothly. They actually can kill you. I was too lazy researching numbers on how many people die riding the commute each year but just googling for images reveals horrifying proof of the 2006 train blasts; only one of the many perils. Others are mashed by the hordes of people, pushed out of an overcrowded coach and shattered on the tracks, or killed by the power supply lines whilst traveling on the train roof (great idea, by the way!). There are several websites and blogs wrapped up around this topic. And even the ...

One of the last things I did in Mumbai was visiting an orphanage for HIV/AIDS-infected children in the outskirts. In India, those children are treated a family disgrace and completely excluded form social life. The sisters of the order The Helpers of Mary – with the support of expatriates and medical, food and clothing donations – built a lovely home for the kids. They showed us around their dorm room and recreational area and performed a traditional dance.

There's not much more to say but how grateful we should be for leading the life that we do and the opportunities we inherited. We must not take everything for granted.



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To sum up my time in India I decided to post the remaining photos and comment on a couple of events and travels. I start with an adventurous layover at the FRRO, the Foreigners Regional Registration Office in Mumbai, which actually felt more like detention.

I feel obliged to mention that Indian law constitutes a resident a person with a habitation longer than 12 weeks (I stayed only for 3 month). Because of a screwup in the General Consulate of India in Frankfurt, Germany, I received a student visa with the condition to get registered with the local authorities. My Indian colleague covered my back in the administrative hazard that is the FRRO. We got hassled by someone who embodied importance in concurrence with inefficiency (not quite sure about the ratio, though). I had to fill out an application, tell someone – sorry, wait for them, then letting them ...

It is probably too late for a first impressions review by now. I could date back this entry but that would confuse the reality that I am a damn lazy bum. Luckily, I took notes which, now, help me put together my initial thoughts.


The airplane was about to land in Mumbai. I never really gave a thought to what was about to happen to me. But then it hit me. I was entering a strange land and probably one of the most fucked up cities in Asia. It’s hot, humid, dirty, malodorous and densely populated by over 13 million people jostling in an area of just 437.71 square meters. What a dump. What the hell was I thinking? That would have been an adequate moment to freak out. So I did. Mildly.
On the airport I got a slight handsel of the city’s taste. One of those ...

I am off to Mumbai, India. During the next four month I will be writing about life in a strange country...