Bags all packed, we said our good byes to our host Rajesh and boarded the bus and left the Riverside resort bound for Mumbai.
I had intended on catching up on some blogging but the roads proved way to bumpy to type and my cursor was jumping all over the place. So if you were scratching your head over a misplaced sentence during my last entries; now you know why.
I finally gave up and closed my laptop to settle with the view outside.
I could tell that we were getting closer to the Metropolis simply by the frequency of tent cities by the roadside. Blue tarps and stained canvases shading dirty blankets and improvised cook stoves hug the shoulder of the highway. Residents sit dangerous close to traffic as they prepare their breakfast.
Shame is redefined as I count a multitude of men relieving themselves on the dry grass beyond the expressway. Maybe they were just taking in the view…who knows.
We arrive at the city and our first stop is a Dhobi Ghat.
A Dhobi Ghat is basically a laundry community. Reams upon reams of cement tubs filled with soapy water line the streets. Above the tubs are countless clothes lines with all manners of colourful clothing flapping in the warm wind.
Despite the sound of honking cars all around us (and trust me, the honking never stops) you hear the residents of the Dhobi Ghat below flailing wet laundry, beating the dirty out against the concrete tubs. It’s an impressive site.
One common element of Mumbai is that you can never escape the outstretched palms of beggars all around you. Imagine walking down Queen Street in Toronto and every third person you meet motions hand to mouth as a gesture for a few pennies to get something to eat. Now imagine that when you look at them you realize that they sincerely need the contribution. How would you deal with it?
It’s very hard to deal with and the first time that it really bothers me is when a small girl hangs off my arm, her hands strangely moist against my plump tourist skin and asks me for some rupees. At one point it feels as if she is going to climb onto the air-conditioned bus with me.
But she doesn’t, the door closes and we drive off to our next destination.
I really like the way Sasha has planned our journey into the city. It’s almost like he has carefully planned our voyage so that we can slowly become accustom to Mumbai.
We stop at a temple briefly, then a spot of lunch and then to our hotel; “The Harbor View”.
Now here is an interesting concept in hotels: stacked hotels. When you enter the lobby of the Hotel you aren’t actually in the Harbor View. You are in the Bay View Hotel. The Harbor View Hotel check in is on the 3rd floor. Following? I’m not but it is cool none the less.
Our hotel is just a short walk to the Taj Hotel which got international attention when it was attacked by terrorists at the beginning of the decade. The Taj is one of, if not the most exclusive hotels in Mumbai.
The view from our small room is amazing. There is a clear view of the Gateway to India. The Gateway was erected to commemorate the visit of from Queen Victoria and is seen in today’s photo.
After check in I searched out a tailor and had some made to measure shirts and yes, suit vests made to measure. 2 Vests and 4 shirts for about $320 Canadian, ready the next day – whoooo hoo! Screw you Moores Suits for men! Hey Brad, they export!
Sasha takes us to the Leopold Café for dinner. The Leopold is a landmark restaurant that has been serving tourists and natives alike since the mid 1800s. Food is awesome, service is crap but I get to have my first real taste of protein since we arrived in India.
Mmmmmmmm Chilli Beef. A huge dish of soft and succulent beef with enough heat to burn the trunk of Ghanesh but man is it ever good.
After the Leopold it is back to the hotel and to bed. My stomach gurgles from the shock of spicy beef to my system but my brain tells it to shut up and thank the Leopold for giving me a little taste of home.
