India – First Impressions

There are countless more events from the previous few months that have made it into my hand-written journal but are yet to appear in blog form, which i should probably write first. However, these events seem slightly tame in comparison to our first few days in India, so next up is Mumbai. I get to type this on our first train journey in India and its gorgeous scenery of mountains, jungles and waterfalls with plentiful wallahs of all kinds keeping me topped up on energy. i may never take a bus again in India, this is how traveling should be.

Mumbai

Vague feelings of trepidation on the flight from Bangkok were quickly replaced when Mumbai came into view. The city skyline at first reminded me off Seoul, white tower block after tower block, but the fact these structures were arranged along a sprawling coastline with dotted with palm trees quickly ended any resemblance. As we flew closer to the city, the blanket of apartment blocks was broken up by various flat, multi-coloured sections, which upon closer inspection revealed themselves to be some of Mumbai’s rubbish-strewn slums, one of which, Dharavi, we would be exploring in 2 day’s time.

At baggage claim we got talking to Jitka, a sweet girl from the Czech Republic. It was her first time in India too, so we decided to band together and share a taxi towards our Mumbai home, the traveller’s centre of Colaba, for a hopefully less stressful initiation into India. Mumbai airport has a great pre-paid taxi scheme, which rules out any chances of a rip-off as soon as you land. What was less certain was our chances of actually making it there, driving is manic throughout Asia, but this was taking things to another level. The girls almost soiled themselves numerous times due to the brake at the last possible micro-second method employed by our driver. I chose to avoid the extra stress and admire the manic new world I was now a part of. The city itself appeared to be an amalgamation of various cities I’d been to before, but most strikingkly reminded me of Bangok, Dubai and even Birmingham all rolled into one. Far more interesting than the structural elements were the people comprised within it. The streets were a throbbing mass of bustling businessman and beggars with the women in their gloriously colourful garb cleansing the dirty streets. There were religious people of various strains, Hindus, Sikhs, Muslims all ramming the streets together and going about their affairs. The journey continued through filthy concrete ‘shacks, new high-rise apartments, cool neighbourhoods with tons of character until suddenly the city metamorphised, bizarrely, into London! We had suddenly reached the affluent area of Churchgate and it looked incredibly like England’s capital. Huge, grand buildings to rival some of London’s finest, tree-lined avenues and even red double-decker buses made my brain struggle to comprehend where the hell I actually was. I was expecting to see some British influence in parts but certainly not on this scale. The first 1 hour of the journey I definitely felt like i was in India, now I felt like I was back in the bosom of Britannia, very surreal.

We managed to find our chosen accommodation without too much difficulty and we ‘checked in’ at the Salvation Army hostel. By ‘checked in’, I mean we had to go and find our own dorm beds in this huge dilapidated building as the staff had a tough job keeping tabs on what was going on. The dorm rooms were huge, each containing about 25 bed-bug infested beds. The place was buzzing with activity with locals and travellers alike. However the place was so big it was totally anonymous and I religiously used the locker supplied to me. It certainly was not my first choice of residence, but the price was right (225 ruppees inc breakfast - 3 quid) and we wanted to stay together, particularly as Jitka was a solo female first-timer to India. We had been really excited about our first Indian meal in the taxi, but the thali we were served up was bland and a massive let-down. We finished up the evening with a very pricey beer by Asian standards (2 quid) at the much celebrated Leopold’s cafe, one of those traveller’s institutions’, glorified by the Lonely Planet, that mugs like me just can’t seem to get enough of for some reason and continue to line their heavy pockets! Before long,the fuzzy effects of a full belly, beer and the flight took over and we went back for a early night, hoping for a good nights kip to be fresh for a first full day in Mumbai tomorrow. When i was denied access to the bathroom by the hostel manager as there were “groups in there” (not quite as sordid as it sounds, I think Indian boys were showering together, there was literally 4 showers for about a hundred people), i could tell I was in for a restless night. I’ve had more good than bad experiences in hostels, but his one definitely fell into the latter, Indian teenagers were inexplicably playing A-Kon on their phones outside my dorm, snoring hippies that I kept having to shake out of their slumber and ladybird sized bedbugs keeping me up scratching all night. I’m getting too old for this! I finally managed to get about 4 hours sleep and was then rudely awoken by screaming Indian boys at 6am. Welcome to India!

Determined to not let my lack of sleep spoil my first proper day of Indian madness, I had an early breakfast and was greeted by Sarah and Yitka about 8am, 2 fully-rested and chirpy ladies. Apparently the segregated ladies floor was a veritable haven of peace and tranquility. Bitches. After a couple of hours trying to sort out an onward train to Goa, heavily booked carriages meant we had to reluctantly settle for an over-priced sleeper bus, I had my first masala dosa, the much-championed snack of spiced potato wrapped in bread. This time I wasn’t disappointed. As Sarah says frequently, “Delici-oh-so!”. By this time it was getting baking out on the busy streets and we took sanctuary in Coffee Day, what I can shamefully see turning into a Western haven for us when you just need to escape the hecticness for half hour or so. After refueling on caffeine and sugar, it was time for a proper explore of Mumbai and what better way than a casual roam around the city? I don’t think I have ever experienced so much stimuli, it really was the full sensory attack on the senses I had been told about. Colourful people from every angle, saris, burkhas and turbans jostling for space amongst cheeky schoolchildren, cows ‘parked’up on the side of busy roads and peddlars and beggars competing for income. All this fervent activity was set to a cacophony of horns blaring and engines revving whilst the Sun beat down, hot and strong. My head was swiveling like the Exorcist child trying to take it all in. It was a wonderful mess. We managed to find some respite from these stimuli amongst the cute backstreets and neighbourhoods of pretty painted houses, getting merrily lost in this sanctum somewhere in the middle of the city. Further strolling revealed the chowpatty (beach), the skyscrapers hugging the East shoreline denoting the wealth contained within this city of extremes. The beach front itself tells a different story, desperate beggar children combing the debris for anything they can salvage amongst the rusting boats, stopping their activity to plead with passers-by for hand-outs. This sad story was once again juxtaposed by next neighbourhood we came to, the affluent Malabar hill, with it’s gleaming new high-rises. We hadn’t come all this way to pry on Mumbai’s better-offs, hidden within this beacon of Indian modernity was a spiritual core, the vast communal bathing tank, which takes pride and place as the centre-piece of the neighbourhood. Indeed, many locals believe this place to actually be the centre of the world as signified by the wooden pole rising from the centre of the tank itself. Although we hadn’t chosen the best time to view (washing en masses occurs in the morning)), the huge stone steps rising from the pool in the middle provided a serene backdrop and we whiled away a few hours, just watching patches of life go by. Some people sat alone with their thoughts, Indian women shared tales of family life with their neighbours and children sharpened their cricket skills in the background. Nobody seemed too perturbed by our presence, in fact I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the overall lack of staring we’ve received in this short time here so far, not what i was expecting at all. We soaked up the serenity for an hour or 2, hardly believing we were in such a calm surrounding. As the Sun was beginning to fade, power-walking grandfathers took to the perimeter and an inquisitive child and grandmother came to share our space on the steps, the happy old woman gabbling away in a mixture of broken English and Hindi. Drums could be now be heard from the far end of the tank, investigation revealing uniformed teenage boys rattling out drum rolls on snares attached to their bodies. Evening practice or something more celebratory?

We took a stroll down some back alleys, chatting to friendly kids and adults alike and found our way to the local beach/rubbish dump/toilet. The Sun was glowing red over the ocean, brilliantly juxtaposed against the unsanitary scene below it. After the overpowering stench became a bit too much, we strolled back to the public square and were greeted by a large group of men pouring down the narrow streets, still in business attire, but most covered in red paint. Had Holi started early? No time to question it as a huge group of women donning their most extravagant saris flooded down the street after the men, the drummers in full flow by this time. When the groups converged in the centre, the rhythm overtook their bodies and the streets were amass with dancing bodies, the men particularly flamboyant in their movements. Once again we just could not believe what we were seeing and beaming at our luck in encountering such an amazing scene. To the delight of a group of teenage boys, I took part and let one of the kids give me a healthy dosing of red paint. It was a wonderful atmosphere and great to be a part of it. After the procession continued through the town, we took a taxi back to Colaba to reflect on an amazing first day in India.