Arrival in Mumbai

When I brought the keys to my plantwatering neighbor Keith he kindly offered me to give me a lift to the airport. - Off to a good start!

We had a pretty shaky flight across the northern Pacific and an equally bumpy landing in Seoul, but regardless: It's gotta be said that Singapore Airlines have are masters in making the Economy class comfy. Great chairs, not too tightly stacked, with a personal screen and a remote for movies and games etc. You get a toothbrush, toothpaste and a couple of socks, there's moisturizing cream and even cologne in the bathroom. Alcoholic drinks are free, including a mean "Singapore Sling" cocktail.

I was a bit concerned about the nightly 7-hour layover in Singapore because I couldn't get a room in the transit hotel. It turned out that there's a freely accessible gym sized low light lounge for tired travelers. Besides of the foot massage machines that you find all over the airport they've got four deluxe massage chairs there, free of charge, so I didn't miss the chance to get myself all kneaded up. I liked the "Human Touch" function.

The final flight to Mumbai only lasted about 5 hours. - Peanuts. During a refreshing touch up on the plane toilet I noticed I had started looking like a castaway in the meantime. Good thing by the way I remembered to grab my Malaria pills out ot the suitcase in Vancouver, they checked it through. And indeed it found me again on the West coast of India.

Upon the first step out of the matchbox sized airport into the hot weather I attracted trabants like a cowpat draws flies. Very friendly and helpful people, everyone hoping to make a couple of Rupees with tips. My luggage boy and taxi organizer looked just a bit disappointed when I didn't have any Singapore Dollars to get rid of.

Zillions of tiny black yellow top Mumbai taxis, half a century old Fiat products, are dominating the streets. Other than that you find every means of transportation since the dawn of mankind: pushcarts, buses, cattle, bicycles, pedestrians and motorcycles with any number of passengers dangling from them. They interweave chaotically at constant speeds, just like a giant swarm of bats, but with honks of car horns instead echo sonar screams. Road markings are completely useless, a street has as many lanes as cars will fit, fender to fender. An elaborate stunt act they practice daily.

The entire scene is flooded with the most beautiful light, with dust and smog particles making for great depth. I sat in the back of the taxi peeking around at the rich and saturated action. It seemed as if I could take pictures at random out of the moving car and end up with wonderful images of strange happenings as every meter brought about an entirely different world and mood.

On second thought, I will continue my report in English in order to make it accessible to more people... If I get around to it I will translate the beginning, and hopefully there will be a selection of pictures, too!

I had been warned that I would be in for an awakening getting to Mumbai. But so far I found the whole thing merely amusing and absurd, observing it from the cabin of the taxi had been much like reading a colorful text by Salman Rushdie. Arriving at the hotel however was different. By stepping out of the taxi there somehow came the realization that now I would become a part of this chaos! I also forgot that - while generally settling for hotels in the mid-range section for the rest of the trip - I had booked a budget sized hotel for the matter that Mumbai is a pricey place and after all I would spend 8 nights here. Of course they never heard of my reservation although I had called them twice. But since they weren't booked and also offered a good cancellation policy I went ahead. The only difference between a cell in a bunker and the room I was offered consisted in a TV mounted to the wall at the foot end of the bed... No windows whatsoever. But after some communication I received a different "Single Executive Room", on the first floor, and with two tiny barred windows peeking out at the buildings around the courtyard out back. It was actually bigger, too. But hey, where's the shower in the attached bathroom? The baggage boy pointed at the shower head up on the wall between the toilet and the sink. Aha... The entire bathroom is the shower. And it worked! The tabs were new, the water warm and plentiful.

Refreshed I went out for some food. I realized later that I headed out in the wrong direction for that matter, turning my back on the restaurants on the other side of the hotel I approached the market place and soon was pulled in by a "guide". The short cross-eyed man pointed at a sign on the wall saying that visitors would need a guy like him in order to see the place, and backed it up by showing me some sort of id. I didn't resist, after all there was lots of food around. So, after buying some (strangely expensive) nuts and a couple of bananas I would actually have liked to take a bite, but he insisted in showing me more and dragged along and up to the second floor where I found myself being the only customer in some clothing business where 3 or 4 tailors suggested I should get myself a silk suit. Finally my guide brought me back to the neighboring restaurant. I enjoyed a delicious butter chicken.

After a few hours of sleep a cab brought me for 50 Rupees to Colaba, the part of town where aging imperial buildings border the water. The plan was to venture out for night life. Before checking out a posh party place called "Insomnia" at the supreme Taj Mahal Palace and Tower hotel I was curious to see the retro disco "Polly Esther", since it would close around 1:30 and it was already close to 11. However, the bouncers there refused me access since I didn't bring a lady friend. I was thirsty and went to a nearby bar where I learned from a few guys that Insomnia had actually moved to the outskirts of the town, so I was advised to waste my money at "Tetsuma". On the way there I passed sleeping people on the sidewalk, rats vanished at my sight. The legs of a sleeping cab driver stuck out of his car.

The place featured a busy bar and an adjacent dance club, but again I would find admission there. It wasn't too late when a taxi took me back to the hotel. I asked the driver to turn on the meter as I was advised to, and the latter added up 300 Rupees. Obviously the driver insisted on the amount, disregarding the fact that he didn't know the place or the address and had to ask another taxi driver on the way. I suggested 50, and we settled for 100.