Sunday, 31 January 2010
A little luxury in Mumbai
As the plane came to land on Mumbai's international runway, the slums that stretch over for some kilometers look like patchwork quilt of corrugated iron roofs and hanging washing...only a small concrete wall prevents them from spilling over onto the runway. Yet as we touch down it's amazing to see how each shack neatly slots in its own jigsaw place; with residents paying rent it's very much like a micro city, the man sitting next to me explains...an apparently far more organised system than first meets the eye.
With my boxed-up bike clinging to the roof of the taxi, I realise I haven't stopped grinning for over an hour. It feels so good to be here! Within an instant the warm air relaxes you to the bone and the endless array of roadside tailors, street stall vendors and sleeping dogs make for constant entertainment. Mumbai is almost like a Kenya-Indonesia hybrid, and I like it! The attention from locals is much less than I expected and rarely stretches beyond a harmless "yes madam, come and see my shop...nice dress for you?". In fact, my hyper-sensitivity to pollution is a far greater annoyance as my nose has been streaming ever since I arrived, and I wake up each morning to a snowball sea of used tissues. Nice.
My first safe vs. less safe decision making began before I even landed. A very eccentric Indian/French/German/British man on the plane ended up launching into a long and energetic conversation with me in French and invited me to come and stay at his sister's beautiful apartment in the poshest end of town. He wasn't pushy and seemed very genuine...somewhat exhausting at 3am, he was a lively character with a tendency of trying to be over helpful with luggage etc. The kind of short man who addresses the flight attendants by their first name (he actually did). But all respect to him, he's abandoned his successful banking career and turned to directing and performing in theater instead, and is all the happier because of it. Anyway, I chewed over the dilemma for the rest of the night, and it was only when I'd politely declined his offer and we were sharing the taxi into Mumbai that I changed my mind. Turned out to be a very luxurious beginning of the trip! Marble floors, hot water showers, a fine introduction to the local delicacies, and a ticket to see Avatar at the modern cinema complex. Fantastic.
In fact, I've already met so many lovely people with interesting lives and generous hearts. The local hangout Leopold's cafe is a great place to meet people. The bullet holes left uncovered in the walls provide a disconcerting reminder about 2008's terrorist attacks, but it doesn't stop the place heaving by dusk. There's Mark, a ship navigator laying fiberoptic cables across the seas...he was sitting enjoying a rare beer during his 3hour 'shore pass' before being summoned by his boat driver to return to the boat at 6pm. There's Tommy, the brilliantly eloquent English intellect that ended up insisting I ate dinner with him over our four hour conversations about all corners of the human mind. Appalled at the lack of challenging employment opportunities for post-grads in the UK, he's in the process of setting up an eco-friendly academic research and development institute in the mountains not far from here, which looks really promising.
And then there's Imran, the Bollywood casting recruiter that works tirelessly scouting for extras in various Bollywood films and TV shows etc. I spent the all of today as a Bollywood film extra, pretending to watch the races in the future film called 'Once Upon a Time in Mumbai'. All I know about the plot is that it's about the Mafia and set in the 1970s. It wasn't that dissimilar to Brighton's own racecourse to be honest, except for the fact that my hair was a crispy shell of hairspray and I was wearing enough makeup to resemble a tranny. Really. But on the up-side, I did find the entire event HILARIOUS.
Anyway, I have also visited some of the slum areas, experienced the ancient local trains and drunk lots of chai. Gandhi's museum has reconfirmed the fact that he is the true definition of a humanitarian legend.
I was planning on getting on with my cycle trip to Goa tomorrow, but plans change, and why not when you've got nowhere to rush to? On my way here to the internet cafe I got chatting to various travelers at a fruit stall...and one girl suggested I join her for some volunteering tomorrow at a shelter that look after 'railway kids'. I don't know what we're going to do exactly, but we are thinking of buying some tennis balls and just playing some games, teaching some juggling etc. Nothing life changing, but it'll make a different day for all of us.
So, expect I'll head off down the Konkan Coast on Sunday. I'm catching a boat that will take me one hour out of Mumbai's mayhem, and then it'll be rural villages and little sleepy beaches all the way to Goa. Everytime I look towards the South I know that so much lies ahead still. It's exciting. And locked to my bunk bed is my bike, patiently waiting for me to get on with it.
That's all for now, sorry to ramble on so long. In summary, I'm super happy and very alive.
Lots of love
With my boxed-up bike clinging to the roof of the taxi, I realise I haven't stopped grinning for over an hour. It feels so good to be here! Within an instant the warm air relaxes you to the bone and the endless array of roadside tailors, street stall vendors and sleeping dogs make for constant entertainment. Mumbai is almost like a Kenya-Indonesia hybrid, and I like it! The attention from locals is much less than I expected and rarely stretches beyond a harmless "yes madam, come and see my shop...nice dress for you?". In fact, my hyper-sensitivity to pollution is a far greater annoyance as my nose has been streaming ever since I arrived, and I wake up each morning to a snowball sea of used tissues. Nice.
My first safe vs. less safe decision making began before I even landed. A very eccentric Indian/French/German/British man on the plane ended up launching into a long and energetic conversation with me in French and invited me to come and stay at his sister's beautiful apartment in the poshest end of town. He wasn't pushy and seemed very genuine...somewhat exhausting at 3am, he was a lively character with a tendency of trying to be over helpful with luggage etc. The kind of short man who addresses the flight attendants by their first name (he actually did). But all respect to him, he's abandoned his successful banking career and turned to directing and performing in theater instead, and is all the happier because of it. Anyway, I chewed over the dilemma for the rest of the night, and it was only when I'd politely declined his offer and we were sharing the taxi into Mumbai that I changed my mind. Turned out to be a very luxurious beginning of the trip! Marble floors, hot water showers, a fine introduction to the local delicacies, and a ticket to see Avatar at the modern cinema complex. Fantastic.
In fact, I've already met so many lovely people with interesting lives and generous hearts. The local hangout Leopold's cafe is a great place to meet people. The bullet holes left uncovered in the walls provide a disconcerting reminder about 2008's terrorist attacks, but it doesn't stop the place heaving by dusk. There's Mark, a ship navigator laying fiberoptic cables across the seas...he was sitting enjoying a rare beer during his 3hour 'shore pass' before being summoned by his boat driver to return to the boat at 6pm. There's Tommy, the brilliantly eloquent English intellect that ended up insisting I ate dinner with him over our four hour conversations about all corners of the human mind. Appalled at the lack of challenging employment opportunities for post-grads in the UK, he's in the process of setting up an eco-friendly academic research and development institute in the mountains not far from here, which looks really promising.
And then there's Imran, the Bollywood casting recruiter that works tirelessly scouting for extras in various Bollywood films and TV shows etc. I spent the all of today as a Bollywood film extra, pretending to watch the races in the future film called 'Once Upon a Time in Mumbai'. All I know about the plot is that it's about the Mafia and set in the 1970s. It wasn't that dissimilar to Brighton's own racecourse to be honest, except for the fact that my hair was a crispy shell of hairspray and I was wearing enough makeup to resemble a tranny. Really. But on the up-side, I did find the entire event HILARIOUS.
Anyway, I have also visited some of the slum areas, experienced the ancient local trains and drunk lots of chai. Gandhi's museum has reconfirmed the fact that he is the true definition of a humanitarian legend.
I was planning on getting on with my cycle trip to Goa tomorrow, but plans change, and why not when you've got nowhere to rush to? On my way here to the internet cafe I got chatting to various travelers at a fruit stall...and one girl suggested I join her for some volunteering tomorrow at a shelter that look after 'railway kids'. I don't know what we're going to do exactly, but we are thinking of buying some tennis balls and just playing some games, teaching some juggling etc. Nothing life changing, but it'll make a different day for all of us.
So, expect I'll head off down the Konkan Coast on Sunday. I'm catching a boat that will take me one hour out of Mumbai's mayhem, and then it'll be rural villages and little sleepy beaches all the way to Goa. Everytime I look towards the South I know that so much lies ahead still. It's exciting. And locked to my bunk bed is my bike, patiently waiting for me to get on with it.
That's all for now, sorry to ramble on so long. In summary, I'm super happy and very alive.
Lots of love
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