Mumbai (Bombay)
We tried to be energetic on Saturday and go for a stiff two hour climb up a cliff to a fort where a bloke called Tanaji had defeated the enemy by throwing an iguana at the cliff until it stuck. No wait, there's more: The iguana (whose name was Yashwanti, by the way) had a rope ladder attached to its tail that they used to get over the walls. It's true! They reckon. Anyway I hope you noticed the 'tried' because we waited an hour or so for the bus then gave up and went to see another museum instead. We found a cave temple as well, carved out of solid rock, where they worship Shiva and various other minor (miner haha) Gods.
We still pretty disillusioned and/or suspicious of Hinduism, businessmen in suits prostrating themselves before the idols - we even saw someone praying to a tree, butting it with his forehead and walking round it. Why?
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I seem to have rushed through Pune and Bangalore a bit, there's so much I haven't said. Like the ham and cheese sandwiches we had from Goa (mmm ham AND cheese!) and how after we bribed the conductor Rs50 each to get us sleeper seats C. still ended up sleeping on the floor because some guy turned up and demanded his bed back. As it was so early when we arrived we slept on the platform with hundreds of other Indians until a nasty man came round at 6am and poked us with a big stick until we looked like we were still alive. C. spent the whole day walking around with no shoes and everyone thought he was very silly.1 In short, we've had quite an exciting time of it and the fun isn't over yet!
From Pune, we got the 1525 train [on Saturday] because we didn't fancy the prospect of arriving in the middle of the night again. It was a real sardine-box affair and we had to stand. There was a bald man who refused to shift up for me because it was a two man seat (both taken). The fact that all the other seats on the train were accommodating threes and fours failed to deter him from this stance. Luckily, C. fought his way down to me after about an hour of 'train surfing' with the exciting news that he was going to vomit. I'll never know why he did this, but replied as any sane man would, Well you'd better go and lean out of the door then. He created a mild sensation as he fainted and threatened to barf on people on the way to the exit. When the stubborn I've spent ages here, I'm not moving Indians realized what he was about to do, Moses at the Red Sea was re-enacted before our eyes and C. nearly fell out the door! I grabbed his arm and hung on desperately as he swung outside the train and hurled into the wind.
He wasn't very well. We got off at the next station Lonavla, and considered our next move.2
At 1800 we got a nearly empty train to Mumbai and arrived at 2130. It was here that the fun really started. I had the job, again, of seeking out accommodation. Trusting USPG's addresses we went to a Methodist Guest House. What USPG omitted was that it cost Rs350 per person per night! We're on a tight budget of 2-300 for both of us! So we went to the other address, hoping fervently that even though we hadn't booked, they'd have a Christian sort of sympathy for us and let us stay.
No such luck. We spent ages remonstrating with the doorman, who didn't really understand us at all, asking if there were any other accommodation around.
This continued in much the same vein and before I hit him, C. (still feeling ill), tried his 'calming influence'. Another man turned up who whose English wasn't much better but he eventually gave us the name 'Sandeep Hotel'. Looking back, I think that he made it up to get rid of us - after all it was 10:30 in the evening.
We set out into the streets of Bombay. Everyone we asked gave us conflicting instructions, presumably because they didn't want to appear ignorant. We resorted to wandering up a street (any street, it didn't matter any more) and eventually found somewhere to stay. On the way we were offered Luxury beds with nice girls and when I said we just wanted to sleep, were told Okay, you sleep, they won't mind. At the Lodge (not, I hasten to add, the brothel) I had to stay up till twelve while the man copied down our passport particulars wrongly. I wouldn't leave our passports with him overnight - who would? - so he photocopied them instead. Was this wise? I don't' know, I just wanted them back so I could sleep!
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In the morning we went back to the CMH guest House (With the unhelpful doorman) and tried to find somewhere to stay again, preferably away from the red light district. Church was just finishing when we arrived, so I made a bee-line for the vicar, thinking that at least he might help us. If he didn't, I'd sing 'When I needed some shelter were you there?' to him. It turned out that he had been to Sellyoak and that he'd seen me there. I didn't believe him, but presented him with our problem. I really think he did his best, but no Oh, just come and stay at my house was forthcoming.
One man told us to go to the Salvation Army nearby. There we met a nice man called Samuel who told me I was pretty stupid not to have gone to their budget accommodation right in the middle of the city instead of coming miles out of the city first. Feeling extremely tired and thoroughly sick of searching we got into a taxi and came to the Salvation Army Red Shields hostel, cursing fate and the horse he rode on. We got here at lunchtime, got ourselves some beds and went out.3
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Bombay is an ace place. I'd quite happily stay here for a week, wandering the streets looking at all the huge Raj-era buildings. The train station, GPO, university and even the Central train station (Metro) are all Palatial Indo-Saracenic monuments. We are staying right next to the Taj Mahal hotel, which is immense and have spent some time in there pretending we can afford it.4 It's full of clothes shops and has an excellent bookshop. They wouldn't let me change money though and I don't think they thought much of C.'s flip-flops. I've run out of money and all the shops are closed so my suit will have to wait!
The Prince of Wales museum is a great place too, with thousands of Indian artefacts and a fantastic display of Indian 'Miniature' art. We went to an art gallery as well which was pretty poor (Indian contemporaries) except for one picture by 'Jehangir A'5 (of which they didn't have a copy) that was incredibly absorbing. The Gateway To India is also close to the Taj and is where the last British troops left from in 1949.
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C. was still feeling pretty off-peak [yesterday] evening, a jumbo chicken croissant and toasted cheese sandwich did little to perk him up, so we went to the cinema. The film [imdb:Mars Attacks!] was showing and it was quite appalling. Although pretty funny, the violence was so unnecessary, too graphic and really, we were both quite shocked. Looking back, it was very funny actually, it's just that we've not seen anything like it for so long that we took it too seriously. I still think that they didn't need quite so many people burning away to steaming skeletons though. It took C.'s mind off feeling ill so it did serve some purpose.6
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Today is the Hindu festival Holi, which involves running around and throwing coloured powders at everybody. Face, clothes, hair, you name it... Being thus covered and donning dhoti 'n' all I felt very Indian again. Also very dirty when we visited another art gallery and the Taj's bookshop. We met some nice chaps who were high on 'bhang', a hashish concoction, one of whom gave us a lift back to the hostel in the Toyota Crown he drives for his hotel. Lovely car.
Tomorrow we're off to Ahmedabad and we'll have to say goodbye to this lovely place. Both the guides said that Bombai is overcrowded, rushed and getting a bus or taxi is a stupid idea. I'm glad to be able to say that they were both wrong.