My arrival in India was inauspicious. The plane had departed Sydney late and then just as we prepared to land, amidst a thunderstorm, at Mumbai, the plane veered sharply upwards from an altitude of about 100m. "Sorry about the missed approach" was the explanation from the flight deck. By the time I was on the ground I was about 2 hours late but then hey... what does that really matter? I'm on holiday!
Bags collected and pre-paid taxi voucher acquired, I stepped out from the air-conditioned world of the arrivals hall into the throng. Not so much the heat but the humidity practically knocked me sideways, as I headed off in search of my taxi. At least I had a 'friend' to carry my backpack... I've only been in India for three days now but there never seems to be a shortage of people keen to carry things or generally 'help' (depending on your definition of help) for a 10 rupee note. This amounts to a grand total of 12.5p so why not I say.
Back in the UK I am sure that I will look back on India with fond memories. But after a long flight and a bad night's sleep the night before I was totally unprepared for the sight of the 'taxi'... a battered yellow-and-black rustbucket whose boot was secured with a chain and padlock. And they were all like that... not just at the airport but all over Mumbai! I dare say it's the same all over India. Actually after a couple of days catching these things became rather fun, once used to the rhythm of convincing drivers to use their meters and trying not to look annoyed when the driver stops during the journey to do anything from go to the toilet to top up brake fluid (both of which are kinda reassuring in their own way!)
This photo is actually a better example of the typical Mumbai taxi:
Next: the roads / traffic / driving 'situation'. I have never seen driving anything quite like that which I have seen so far in India. It's very difficult to describe; lanes on highways mean nothing. Pedestrians weave in and out as though guided by some divine force, seemingly oblivious to the death on wheels screaming past in all directions. Buses, trucks, hand-pulled carts, pushbikes, motorbikes, cars, taxis and rickshaws all jostle for space, with only inches between them. This is all partly explained by Mumbai's terrible roads... to get from the airport to the heart of the city, at the end of a long peninsula, takes anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours. The distance covered is something like 30km. So the roads are just something that you have to deal with in this city!
The alternative for many people, including many western businesses, is to set up shop away from the old city in suburbs like Bandra, which are close-ish to the airport but far enough away from it too. This is what Arup have done with the recently-established Mumbai office (total staff = five), which I visited on Tuesday afternoon. As my taxi struggled through the afternoon traffic (I arrived an hour late for my appointment) it seemed that Mumbai's chronic traffic appears to be sucking the life out of the old city. Indian and western businesses set up shop 20km out because getting in and out of the city is a huge hassle. And if all your clients are doing likewise, what is the point of going into the city at all? It will be interesting to see whether the colonial architecture of the old city will just be left to crumble while the glass and steel towers sprawl across the outer suburbs, their air-conditioned comfort and blandness keeping the fascinating yet dilapidated old city at a safe distance from the suited classes.
So apart from spending a lot of time in taxis, what did I actually do in Mumbai? I arrived too late Sunday to do much except get a quick drink and a light dinner at an 'upwardly mobile' cafe/bar around the corner from my hotel. The hotel was not cheap - none in Mumbai are - but it had great views from its position on Marine Drive, overlooking the 'back bay' of the Arabian Sea to the west of the old city (photo below). In the mornings a guy brought me newspapers and a simple breakfast with loose leaf tea. The air conditioning was good (an absolute necessity) as was the shower. Plus I had a balcony and wireless internet... everything I could ask for basically!
On the Monday I basically just had a general wander, trying to soak up the atmosphere of one of India's biggest cities without getting run over and/or contract food poisoning. Not yet brave enough to try the 'street food', I stuck to restaurants recommended by 'the good book', as I shall be referring to my Footprint India travel guide from now on.
One thing I really wanted to see was the crush of commuters arriving in the morning rush hour at the main train stations, Churchgate and CST. I'd also hoped to see the famed Dabbawallahs, or tiffin box carriers, who deliver home-cooked packed lunches from housewife to husband all over the city. But I didn't see any. Got some 'interesting' photos though.
In the afternoon I wandered down to the famed Gateway of India, built in 1906 for the arrival of the King and Queen for their Indian tour. Situated on the quayside, it's also the point from which the last British battalion departed India after independence. And today, it's probably the most heavily touristed part of the city, where anyone with a pale face runs the gauntlet of the various touts, beggars and vendors of tat. I think I need to work on the art of politely saying no whilst achieving the desired outcome of making said tout, beggar or vendor bugger off. I haven't yet offended anyone (or so I think) but my success in losing hangers-on has been limited at best!
The Gateway itself was pretty enough despite being half covered by scaffolding, as were the brightly painted ferries anchored close by. The incredibly expensive Taj hotel overlooks the whole scene, which sadly includes a huge amount of rubbish and pollution in the harbour. It does make you wonder for the health of the kids jumping off the quay walls into the murky water. Unfortunately this theme of general rubbish and pollution was repeated at the otherwise quite appealing Chowpatty Beach, where many local families gather to chill out around dusk.
Other than visiting Arup, I spent Tuesday on a trip to Elephanta Island, abut 11km offshore towards the mainland from Mumbai. This meant I got to go on one of those brightly coloured ferries I mentioned above, which was half the fun of the trip!
Upon arrival at the island I was immediately accosted by a local guide and offered a tour. Given that I was short of time and actually quite interested in having someone explain stuff to me (I have been trying to mug up on the Hindu religion with the help of the good book but really I haven't got far) we agreed a fee and set off. I hadn't bargained for having to buy the guy a beer and snacks too, but what the hey. I imagine 'cheeky' doesn't translate into Hindi too well. Krishna the guide was actually very knowledgeable about the 'caves' at Elephanta, cut from solid rock many centuries ago. Even the religious images inside the caves were cut from the same monolith. Very impressive. And that's despite the damage and occasional bullet-hole left by the Portuguese army, who at one stage used the caves as some kind of firing range!
There were quite a few monkeys on Elephanta island too. I'm sure that there are monkeys to be found all over India, but I will never get tired of seeing them monkey about, so long as they don't nick my camera or something equally worthless to a monkey but valuable to me. For a while I watched them preening each other, play fight, and generally monkey about.
So that was Mumbai. Just a brief taster and off again Wednesday morning, flying to Varanasi with the oddly named Spicejet. More on that in the next post...
Robin
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