The Unexpected Things
Trip Start
Oct 09, 2007
1
39
42
Trip End
Nov 16, 2007
Mumbai (Bombay),
India
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The taxis brought us huge amounts of sweating (due to the heat and traffic jams) and about the same amount of amusement. Like for instance, at just about each traffic light, the driver turns off the engine. Same goes for the autorickshaws. But one particular driver even went to the extent of turning off his lights! Well, at least the chap had lights that worked. It is terribly common here for them to drive around without lights completely. Imagine crossing the crazy streets and keeping your eyes out for such vehicles. But funnily enough they will have the interior of their taxis lit with a bluish flourescent light when they are waiting for passengers - it looks very stylish. Must be their way of attracting customers. You know like insects to the blue light?
Speaking of crossing streets, then there are the modes of transport that go against traffic. Here we are, Alan and I - thinking we are veterans at crossing the roads, Indian style. Alamak, just the other day Alan got hit by a bicycle as he and I were crossing the road after ensuring that it was clear (well, what we thought was clear) only to be hit from behind! The bicycle only grazed me but Alan got hit on his left leg. (He's fine, no worries - not sure about the bike!) The cyclist looked so surprised and must have thought - how come you did not see me? Go figure!
Footpaths are another danger. Most are very uneven, you have to side-step the puddles made by dripping air-conditioners from the offices above and not to forget the blobs of spit. Fortunately, the campaign to clean up Mumbai includes a Hall of Shame for those caught spitting and littering. Anyone caught will have their photos posted for everyone to see. I guess in a country of over 1 billion people there is no such thing as privacy. And frankly, I think it's probably the only way to enforce it. There are also the trip hazards. Holes appear without warning, and makeshift concrete covers pop up when you least expect it. This makes for an ever-changing, interesting obstacle course one is challenged with daily. Plus, don't forget all the stall holders. It's no wonder that people walk on the roads where it's safer - sometimes!
We have had fun evesdropping on conversations while having our twice daily doses of Ethiopian coffees. We hear the funniest things, mostly from young women who for example talk about Shah Rukh Khan (see, it's not just me!) and movies, their work and bosses, boyfriends, parents. And even though they are conversations you might hear in Perth - culturally the values, perceptions and acceptances are very different and sometimes shocking.
One thing I found interesting is that whenever I wear a sari, which I've done a few times when we step out for dinner is ...
a. Mumbai VT Station (taken from inside a taxi)
I don't get stared at as much. Why? I cannot explain this phenomenon. During other times they all turn and look. Alan's theory is that they look because they wonder if I'm Indian at these other times, but when I drape on a sari they know for sure that I am - so, no need to stare. I am not so sure about this.Food, well as you all know we have had a wonderful time eating here. But I must tell you that I hated today's lunch ordeal! It all began in the morning, after our wonderful coffees at Cafe Coffee Day. I wanted to order my favourite Chocolate Fantasy but as it was about 11.30am, Alan insisted that we'd soon have lunch and the cake would 'spoil my lunch.' (How Eurasian can you get with a line like that, for heaven's sakes??)
We headed towards Crawford Markets as I wanted to look for a handbag and so far the only place that seems to sell this particular type is Bandra which is a drive and a half to get to. This walking to Crawford and shopping should have taken about half an hour - provided we found what I was looking for. But the bag selling area was a big dissapointment plus it was right next to the fish and chicken markets (think smells of the most disgusting order and WET ground - vomit inducing stuff). Here I was, with an empty stomach from the lack of Chocolate Fantasy or breakfast - side-stepping with expert agility and thinking "Donovan would just die." when I decide, okay I've had enough, let's just get out of here and have lunch - thinking we'd go somewhere we know nearby and SOON.
But my charming husband - the great food adventurer decides he wants to try this place called Peshawa which he read about in the newspaper. One would think firstly, that the newspapers would provided an address ...
b. Sitting in a taxi in Mumbai
nup ... that would be too easy and not in the style of Indian directions. Following what Alan remembered from the article we headed towards Victoria Train Station. So we crossed roads, climbed overpasses, stopped and asked for directions (umpteenth times) but nobody knew where this place was. I said - surely it can't be that great a place if nobody has heard of it. But this is Alan leading the hunt, remember?!Following his nose (you have all heard of this navigation gift by now) he keeps going and going and going and then finally guides us back to our hotel because he says ... he will ask our hotel concierge who is a goldmine of information. But ... even our trusted Lawrence had not heard of this place. Infact, Lawrence immediately quipped "It's in Pakistan" when Alan asked him. (Peshawar is the capital of the NW Frontier province in Pakistan)
I was thinking "Too right mate, can we just bloody eat at McDonalds around the corner." Lawrence sweetly then rings and finds out where it is. And Alan triumphantly leads the way ... again. Oh Gawd ... it's now 2pm and I am starting to loose my patience but I just quietly walk behind him - thru the lunch-time crowd, avoiding the spit and obstacles along the way.
Still could not find it ... but Alan persevered ... he HAD to find this place - the food was calling - it was highly recommended, according to him. But it must be the hunter gatherer in him. Finally, with MY help, after going thru narrow back alleys and in a round about way when my initial directions would have avoided all this; we find it ... sit down and order. He had the cheek to say very cheerfully to the waiter "Madam will select and order." I could have slapped him good and proper! I merely ordered MY food and said to him "Pick your own!" Yes folks .. I was at the end of my tether! And guess what ... in this big restaurant ... there was only one other table occupied at what is Indian luch time, which means all the GOOD restaurants are full.
Kemasangi this Alan! (roughly translated blood-suckingly annoying)
Verdict - the food was crap. No wonder it was empty; no wonder nobody had heard of it. It might as well have been in Pakistan!
Tonight, I am leading the way to dinner. We are going to Delhi Dhabar for the best bbq meats - walking distance, in a bright and clean street.
