Pagoda Sunday

The first night with effective sleep without the hourly sudden spontaneous awakening. My colleagues had a trip in mind to the Elephanta caves. I had heard about this and would involve an hourly boatride. Nice prospect. Plans have shifted however to go to Gorai. As I had never heard of this place before (not all to hard considering I'm no Mumbaiker) I was intrigued. Not in the least because my colleagues had not visited the site themselves! This time I caught even the city bus which costs a whooping Rs 7! Amazing. The busdriver unexpectedly drives calm but firm through the busy streets of North West Mumbai. However, somehow it seems that we are too slow in getting off the bus and the driver starts driving back after having reached the terminus. Some harsh words are even exchanged. Life in Mumbai goes fast: be prepared! We walk towards the river (Manori Creek) and the smell of fish enforces itself upon us. At the boat we wait for the rest of our party to arrive.





Meanwhile the floating bank is sinking more and more because of the extra wait of motorbikes and people. The ferry does not sink (thanks for the warning Ravi) and we walk towards Mumbai's newest landmark, the majestic 325-feet tall Global Vipassana Pagoda. However not yet entirely covered in gold, it's already quite impressive.



A lot remains to be done like the marble flooring but as this pagoda is funded purely based on gifts and construction has been going on for more than 11 years now, that seems like a minor problem. Inside people are meditating under a large dome. It must be an amazing site if it is completely filled.

The entry to the temple lies next to (really!) this themepark entrance



Prizewinning picture of an Indian sunset (?!)



On the road back we decide to go through with the highly anticipated plan to see a Hindi movie. The only movie I had heard off was not playing anymore (lucky for some, most people found it to be a bad movie) and the suggestion fell on Ajab Prem ki ghazab kahani.



An entertaining movie about the President of the Happy Club who falls in love with a girl. She's already in love with someone else of course. This mad story is rather simple and because of that I get at least the main plot. Combine that with slapstick humour, a little bad acting now and then, the lovely Katerina / "Jenny" (I'm writing this for you, not me! You know who you are) some strange fighting moves and fat comedy sauce topped of with some singing and dancing and my first Hindi movie was a blast. Altogether again one day well spent! Thanks guys!!

Swinging Saturday

Five AM, the alarm clock punishingly awakes me.



The promise of yesterday stings hard in my body that is unwilling to let the soft bed behind. Ravi calls and we are not going to Santa Cruz but he will be joining me at the hotel. A little sad about this sudden change, although travelling there would have been quite a challenge at that time for me, but with anticipation I head of and meet him and a colleague at the gate. We run for about 6.5km around Powai lake. The otherwise, carloaded, rikshafilled, busfilled road is almost empty. A stray dog looks sad at us when we run by. By 6:50 where back at the hotel. I'm grateful for the invitation and with this exchange of gratitude I walk back into the hotel for some excercises and a steambath (what a nice surprise!). The Dutch colleagues are enjoying breakfast (or faking it well). They are about to embark in a tour of downtown Mumbai. I decline their invitation to go there. As I have been there and especially the long ride there puts me of. Instead I go to my room and ...fall asleep. Yeah, that was kindof a surprise. Afterwards, I left for the Shri Siddhivinayak temple in Dadar.

Some onroute photo's:

First taking the riksha to Anderi station and from there by fast train in the first class compartiment (and the MENs compartiment for that matter, yes I do try to learn from experience). One riksha ride I'm at the temple. The temple itself is gated and basically sealed. I cannot take my camera inside but the local salesman will guard it for me. As compensation, I buy some offerings for Lord Ganesha and take them inside. Dropping my shoes at yet another booth, I enter the temple. All the fences considering, it does not feel crowded so I consider myself very very lucky given that once it get's crowded in India it is oppressingly crowded. Not part of my comfortzone... Inside the temple one has to walk around it and enter a shrine where you can hand over your offerings to some 'priests'? who accept your offering and exchange some items. Ganesha in his orange body smiles at the spectacle. The golden glow of the shrine adds even more atmosfere to this happening and contrary to my discomfort in crowds like this I cannot but smile.
Onwards to Bandra

More onroute pics:




where I really wanted to see the stalls at Linking road. So I found them...well lit!



And they are filled with womans clothes and shoes (very cheap: colleagues say that with a little bargaining you can get a pair for Rs 50 but you can only wair them for a month). Somehow I expected a more diverse palette for shoppers.
So that's the view for when you're hunting for bargains. Then I turned around to find this in my face:
As it is getting late, I return to Bandra station on foot and take the train to Anderi.



I abandon my earlier plan to visit St Mary's church in Bandra. Maybe next time. While on my way to the beautiful Bandra Station, some raindrops fall from the heavens. A chilly wind cools the streets. Temperature reaches a familiar 18 degrees Celsius. Back on the train to Anderi and one riksha ride later I'm back at the hotel. I really love going about and discovering Mumbai. Pity that I have so little time and that this city is so big and busy. I count my blessings for this lovely day and top it off with a few beers.

Working man

Thank God it's friday! Only one day of work and then weekend!



Remembering my old routine I enjoy breakfast at the Lake View Cafe. And since my collegues are there it's all happy chitter chatter. The guys allow me to ride with them so I gladly accept. Within 25 minutes we are at the Mumbai 2 office... my god, the road next to Powai lake has improved a lot. In my memory we used to stand in traffic jams all the time. No such thing. One smooth ride that was! So next thing, the mandatory enlistment in the books at the gate and then inside where there is nobody....it's 8:45. I find myself a spot and one by one the teammembers start arriving. It's one big 'happy happy joy joy' party in meeting everybody. Me and the team have a very constructing day and at 18:00 I return to the hotel. Somehow, I was using my voice the wrong way because I felt it starting to break down at times. At night I had planned a visit to the Velvet Lounge but as the interesting invitation of Ravi passed at lunchtime I could not refuse this unique event: to go for a run at Santa Cruz at 6 AM! So I head to bed early and have a hard time catching it...

The return

So, it finally happened. I was able to return to Mumbai. City of smells, city of bustle. The flight was smooth except for the 10 year old girl that had a hard time understanding that not everybody appreciates if you put your feet under someone elses legs. But Zen will get you a long way. Landed 45mins late because of weather conditions at Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport. The rat race is on. After all this sitting I enjoy the sneak through – fast pacing game to get outside as fast as possible. Along this way I get screened for H1N1 disease by an orange Fluke thermal scanner that is hooked up to some 40 inch monitors. If your face is heated then you’re to be quarantainned. I dodge that bullet and speed on towards the exit. The crowd cheers upon my arrival – I wish…. I find my personal Mercedes driving chauffeur and we are on route. Two o’clock at night and still not sleepy. Three thirty and I force myself to sleep.

Chicken Tandoori

As Indians really, really love their food, this is an easy topic to start conversation over. So mentioning that I haven't had Chicken Tandoori, they started planning. Today, during lunch we would go out on motorbikes to a good restaurant. So that's what happened. We took off in a taxiriksja, to my disappointment to Naaz. Quite a ride, again a trafficjam, lot's of honking, squeezing, manouvering. At Naaz my collegue with the biggest appetite and a nack for organizing all the food (hi Chirag!) makes sure we have everything and then we wait. The Chicken Tandoori arrives and is just as I remember it. Tasty, spicy, tender. Next dish, naan with two gravy's (forgot the names). The butter paratta is amazing. Never again will I eat it in the canteen. The dishes are empty and I feel like a stuffed turkey. This is, however, not the end. Dessert is ordered. It looks great. My colleagues invite me to 'jump in' but I cannot. Too much delicious food. Doesn't the icecream look like a gift from heaven?

We leave the restaurant and I get a ride back to the office on a 125cc motorbike. I turn down the offer to drive myself. Not being used to the Mumbai traffic I fear mayhem is lurking around the corner. We drive through the enchanting neighbourhood of Ghatkopar. It seemed like a french city with the colours faded. But cosy and lively. So Mumbai is not only slums and posh hotels but has it's nice pockets of 'normality'. Cruising over the highway at 60 km/h (I was given a helmet, which is an exception ;) ), wind blowing, we overtake cars and taxiriksjas left and right. At the highway end, we take a left turn and are stopped by the police. Seems we neglected a stop. After slipping the policeman Rs 100,- we are free to go. The policeman threatened to take him to court and take his drivers license from him. Now that's what I call crimefighting! Having returned at the office, my colleagues insist I take a short ride on the bike. Actually craving for a ride I jump on and take off. Driving around the building I surprise them. Seemingly, not everybody knew that it was possible to go all the way around.

The lunch was so heavy I couldn't eat dinner at the regular hour. I now understand why Indians have a hard time after lunch, the food is quite heavy on the stomach. Yet another memorable day.

Hotel integration

As my stay lasts longer, the hotel personal has become more and more personal. At first everybody was polite and friendly in a professional matter. But since I take the time to return the question: "How are you?" it seems that I have become a person to them as they have to me. Somehow, me asking the return question comes as a surprise to them. Maybe this is the key explanation to the shift in attitude? Or is it only duration?

I end up having conversations with the chef over the recipe of Brussels sprouts. The chef prepared some last week and I mentioned to him that they were not really tasty (they were really hard). So this week I ended talking to Harschvardan (not the chef but what a name!) who questioned me on the proper way of cooking Brussels sprouts. Writing the recipe down, he thanked me for the recipe stating that next time they serve BS (he he), he'll have the recipe out on display. My 5 minutes of fame! After that the chef personally prepared some small Indian snacks on the counter (different snacks every day, yum). As I have now effectively tasted almost everything from the buffet, I'm getting curious what the Indian cuisine in Holland tastes like.

Tourist Saturday Indian Style

An ambitious Saturday schedule gets me out of bed early. First pit stop is at Inorbit where I pickup my custom made shirt. Outside the shopping mall I catch a glimpse of a Bollywood film shoot. The driver informs me that this is the very famous 'Shahid Kapoor'! Really…. As all of this driving consumes a lot of time I go through the newspaper and spot the following advertisement.

Marriage is a very serious business in India. Earlier this week a couple was found dead because the woman could no longer bear being cut off from the family (the family did not approve the marriage!) and asked her husband to kill her, which he did after which he hung himself. Sad story.

Reaching Linking road in Bandra after a 40 minute drive I ask the driver to park the car. He queries as to what I want to purchase. I really don't need anything but would like to walk around so I inform him of such. He looks like he doesn't understand so I toss in 'Shoes'. Frantically he starts looking for a shoe store. We stop at the side of the road. Parking here is not a mundane task. The driver gets out and turns into a very directive and angry man who instructs a cab driver to move his car so that he can squeeze onto the pavement. Quite a contrast with the servile friendly man that I know as my driver. Is it the caste system at work?

We move on and find a mall with an underground parking. While he waits I take a stroll over Linking road.

Bandra Pano (click to enlarge)

After going through the shops I ask him how long it will take us to get to Crawford market. He asks: "Why you want to go to Crawford market? Is vegetable market!". It's hard for him to realize that this five star hotel resident wants to see what the market looks like, too mingle with the 'plebs'. But it will take up to one and a half hours of driving to get there. This car is not helping me anymore; I need to get rid of it. The train will take me downtown in thirty minutes. Now that's interesting. I ask him to drive me to the train station. Again a quizzical look: "But I fast driver, sir! Only one hour." I convince him that he is the fast driver he says he is but that the others are slowing him (and me) down. It's beginning to thaw on him that this means that he now has the rest of the day off. We part our ways and I find myself amidst Mumbaikers. My last string to the posh world (not my world to begin with) has been severed. I am on my own and very happy.

I remember from my Indian colleagues that I can get a first class tourist train ticket. I queue up and after a short while I'm provided with a ticket. India is no different from Amsterdam so I had to block out a guy who tried to creep ahead of me. I find the train to Churchgate and notice that there is vacant spot at the door. This is it! Travelling Indian style. Partially hanging out of the door, the wind going through my hair, somewhat strange looks from passengers, lovely train ride!

From the train station I start walking to the Gateway of India. This is where I come across the most India/British scene: cricket against a background of historical buildings.

Gateway Pano(click to enlarge)

At a sidewalk near the Gateway of India a young woman ties some flowers around my wrist. Typical behaviour "begging camouflage". After talking for a few minutes she understands and respects that I will not accept the flowers and that I will not give her money. I offer her one of my bottles of water which she accepts. I say goodbye to her and walk towards the Gateway. While taking pictures another girl addresses me. "Won't you buy food for me? I don't need money." Suddenly afraid that I had created an avalanche of beggars I look around but nonetheless the former girl joins us. They seem to know each other well. A little scheme to trick the tourists? As I had already made up my mind as to helping someone I suggest that we go to the supermarket. They gladly lead the way. Upon arrival the guard at the door stops them. I step in and say that for this visit they are with me. He gives me a strange look. The ladies however seem to be floating. They need flour, oil and rice. I turn around looking for stuff they already have their hands full of stuff. But this is no more than the 'give the hand, take the arm' reaction. My altruism has a limited budget so they will have to comply with that. "Why don't you get more money, then come back" I laugh and say: "this is the deal, take it or leave it". It's obvious that my kindness has its limits. They settle for goods that will provide them with a meal for one month. As I calculate this through, I have worked less than one hour for this… Unsettling observation. The ladies seem pretty happy. Outside I take their picture and we part our ways. For some friends I purchase numerous tin cans of toothpowder. The cashier looks at me and I say to him that I have an extremely bad breath. He laughs. I pay and leave. Again I stumble into the ladies and one of them holds two packs of tomato condensate and smiles from ear to ear. We never bought that. Little thieves. They are now joined by an adult. I peace sign them farewell. At the supermarket I rearrange my bag and see the adult woman walking by with the rice I just both for them. I'll never know how this 'gang' works and who will profit from the food. I sincerely hope that it will end up in children's stomachs.

With a taxiriksja I travel to Crawford market. This big market has all the fruits and vegetables one could ask for. It seems as if all of them are coming straight from paradise, unbelievably appealing! I walk through the different alleys, smells ranging from spices to nuts over hefty slaughtered chicken (baskets full). It's getting late. Outside on the side of the 'pavement' I rearrange my bag again with the purchased goods. Suddenly a rat shoots in my direction and passes between me and the wall.

Since no taxiriksjas are allowed in Colaba (the most Southern part of Mumbai) I stop a taxi (type Ambassador 'the sturdy') in midst traffic. Honking!! At the station I locate my train through asking and end up at the wrong platform, the sign doesn't list my station. Seems they didn't know either. A friendly man helps me out and points at the right platform. That would mean walking all the way back since I have to cross multiple tracks. He advises me to wait and cross through the train. A few minutes later the train arrives and I speed towards my train. When I'm in the second train my train starts moving. This is not happening. I'm not missing this one. So I do the one possible thing: do it the Indian way. I sprint and jump on the train, firmly grasping the middle bar. He he, made it! All happy I turn and realize I have boarded the 'Ladies only' compartment. I apologize: 'Maaf kerna' and switch compartments at the first station. The one table listing all the stations is in Hindi and the English one has been painted over. Great. I remember more or less which stations we passed from my previous train ride with my Indian colleagues so I sit down and read the newspaper. People are getting on the train at every station. It is getting ever more crowded. In Vikhroli I get off, take a taxiriksja to the hotel and call it a day.

Glorious day this was! Memorable.