This is the street I live on. Some of what you see here is debris from the recent cyclone. But the trash is an everyday sight—nothing unusual here. I hate to say this, because I really love India, but it is a dirty place. It’s just a fact. Between the cow dung all over the streets and other places you walk (They roam freely, and thus poop freely as well and I’ve often thought that it’s a pity dogs cannot live off of eating cow dung, because it is a plentiful resource and sadly there are starving, sickly street dogs everywhere you go here.), the heaps of garbage scattered throughout, the exposed sewage, and then all of the dustiness, at first it can overwhelm the senses. I’m pretty used to it now, though, so for the most part I do not feel grossed out walking down the street (as I used to). That said, I have to wash my feet each night before I get into bed because I have what I’ve come to call a “dirt tan” on them, where all exposed areas of skin not covered by my flip flops (the only thing I wear on a daily basis because of the heat and also the fact that you must remove your footwear before entering shops, schools, homes, etc…) are dark brown. I’ve come to really enjoy the evening ritual of lovingly massaging them with a fine smelling soap and then rinsing them with the cold tap water (there is no water heater, so all bathing is done with cold water!) in my bathroom, as small geckos watch from the ceiling.