I heart Mumbai

With only a regular weekend to go, we really didn't get enough time there. We left Friday evening (after a three hour delay!) and arrived at our hotel around midnight. We stayed in the south, which is the old city. The hotel was smack in the middle of Fort, an old colonial area, about a block from what was until a few years ago known as Victoria Terminus, or VT as everyone there calls it. The official name is Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus. It's a huge crazy Victorian Gothic frothy crazy fabulous thing, with local critter-gargoyles: monkeys, alligators, peacocks, bats, rats and a bunch of other things carved into the stone. Inside it looks like an English train station. Lots of Mumbai, especially the old parts, looks like England. I know it's a colonial city, but still I was suprised by the degree to which it did. If you ignored the signs and the humidity, you could easily think you were in Liverpool--especially on the drive from the airport on the flyovers (like freeways)in the middle of the night.

It's a very different city from Hyderabad. It's not under construction for one. We saw zero goats, and less scooters. More cars, and the taxis in the city are not autorickshaws, but black and yellow Soviet era little cars. Clearly Mumbai has tons more money and an infrastructure built by colonial and neocolonial capital. Broad tree-lined avenues, wide sidewalks, the outsides of buildings are finished, not covered in bamboo scaffolding. The streets are not full of pot-holes and construction workers from the country in bare feet, carrying boulders and piles of rubble from one side of the road to another. The foreign capital in Hyderabad really needs to invest in infrastructure; but they won't; they don't need to. Information tech doesn't require it.

Mumbai is a city that is relatively clean, modern, and bustling in a way that feels energizing, rather than chaotic. People are friendly but they don't stare.Foreigners are as common as dirt. Something about the city seems more laid back, less desperate (that might be money, it might be something else too).

It rained on the first morning, and contrary to all advice and reports it was not flooded. We got sunburned, actually. We went on the ferry to Elephanta Island, climbed up 1/4 mile of stairs, and saw 7th C. temples dedicated mostly to Shiva. We were obsessed with the monkeys and the jungle and the dogs there. For us it will be forever known as Monkey Island. There were no elephants there. The ferry ride was rough both ways. About an hour on choppy seas; it's only 12 km away, but it was a very slow boat. Sideways there, and up and down back. We barely talked because we were concentrating on not getting seasick and puking our guts out by keeping our eyes fixed on something not moving (an island, a boat, whatever). By the time we got back to Mumbai, we were hot hot hot, sweaty, and slightly sunsick. We stumbled over to the Hotel Taj Mahal, where I've never been happier to be a rich American. It's from 1903 and gorgeous. We cleaned up and went to the Sea lounge. We just happened to be there at tea time, and were rewarded with a yummy buffet of savory and sweet snacks, both English and Indian. Samosas, all manner of pastry stuffed with spinach and mushrooms and cheese, and little bits of roasted corn on the cob. There were also cakes, and muffins, and scones with cream and raspberry jam, and little chocolate mousse parfaits. A full luxurious and decadent spread. With very very nice tea. And apparently, fancy hotels will bring you paracetemol (like Tylenol) if you ask them for some aspirin. I had a mean sun-headache, so after we popped into the bookstore (for a guidebook) in the shopping arcade in the hotel, we went back to our regular hotel so I could shower, ice my head, and drink gallons of water. Two hours later I was all better, and Sion had a plan.

We dressed and went out to dinner at Khyber, "the best restaurant in Mumbai" according to our travel guide. It didn't disappoint. It's so well-known there's not much of a sign. It does look like a palace inside, and we were seated in a room dominated by two paintings by M.F. Husain, an Indian artist surrounded by controversy for his work; he's in exile now. I found out later who he was; the waiter told us as he noticed my commenting on the portrait of the well-endowed woman with no face, just boobs and lips. Guess what I was saying... The food was very good; rich and buttery and well spiced. Mughlai cuisine is apparently full of meat and butter. What could be better? We feasted again on lamb, paneer kofta, and dal, and of course there was lots of buttery naan and rice. We barely put a dent in the food, which I think frustrated the waiters. They kept wanting to serve us more and we kept stopping them.

We attempted the nightlife; next door to Kyber there is a super hip nightclub with no sign, called The Red Light. Yes, there is a red light outside. Lonely Planet told us about it. The crowd was very young, and even though my receding headache meant I didn't feel like drinking, I was still curious. When we get to pay the cover we expected about $25 for both of us. Covers charges are for couples; singles (known as stags here) have a hard time getting into clubs. They wanted double that, and were going to close within about an hour and half. The music was all techno, and the crowd was really young (under 25). 50 bucks for a techno club: not so much.

The next day we went walking all around: saw VT properly, then Chowpatty beach where I had to touch the Arabian sea. From there we went up to see the dhobi ghat which is next to a suburban train station. A dhobi is a traditional laundryman; and I think ghats are stairs or mountains. The dhobi ghat near Mahalaxmi station is pretty famous; about 200 dhobis and their families work there (its an occupation passed down within families). From there we caught the train (I bought a garland of jasmine from an old lady and her apprentice at the station) and we went up to Batra, a shopping district in the north. After tromping around the streets we had lunch: we stumbled into some kid's birthday party, but they let us sit at the edge. Some delicious chole bhatura, a fried puffy bread served with curried buttery chick peas garnished with slivers of beets and paneer and green onions and a couple of chilies. We mostly ignored the thali (combo plate) I ordered. We also got to have a safe version of classic Indian street food, Pani puri. Little fried puffs of dough that are hollow: you crack the top, fill it with some curried potatoes, and then dip in into two different sauces that are water based: one's tamarind and the other's green and spicy. You pop the whole thing into your mouth and it explodes as you bite down. insanely messy and delicious. We can't eat it on the street because of the high water content of the sauces; but this restaurant makes their with mineral water; the menu said so. From there we went to run around the shoe market, an area where there are tons of shoes. But nothing said take me home. We saw our first elephant! Sion stood in traffic to get pictures for me. So gallant and crazy. Then it was time to head to the airport.

I saw monkeys and an elephant and ancient temples, and markets, and colonial stuff, and ate really well. Why can't the company be in Mumbai? Why? Why?