Thinking

We didn't turn the TV on until late last night, so it came as a shock to hear of the terrorist activity in Mumbai.  Having stayed in the Taj hotel so recently, the accounts of events gave both of us shivers as we pictured the bustling foyer, the lively bars and restaurants, the bright and well stocked shops which attracted tourists and locals alike.  We recalled a wonderful afternoon, spent drinking tea in the afternoon heat but in the shade of a cool verandah in a quiet garden, imagining it to be anything but quiet today.

Most of my thoughts turned to the delightful people.  I wonder how the charming young reception clerks are, what's happened to the three amazing concierges who somehow remembered not only everyone's name but even knew which was our luggage in the melee that is so typically Indian.

I pictured the scene in the ground floor restaurant, where we enjoyed a delicious "Bombay Tiffin"one evening.  The dark furnishings and subdued lighting created a wonderful atmosphere and we received first class service from the many young waiters who were anxious to ensure everything was to our liking.

I wonder what's happened to the Joy shoe shop on the ground floor at the front of the hotel, with the funny little details and the dozen or so young men who brought out almost every twinkly shoe in their store so willingly for picky women like me.

But most of all, I thought of the hundreds of thousands of ordinary Mumbai residents, passing through the station, along the street or in the cinema, going about their ordinary, everyday business and caught up in such terrible events.

Where is the man who runs the tiny office supplies store on the road by the station, who fulfilled my wish for glue sticks and paper punch (How many holes, madam?  What size hole, Madam?) Hard to imagine that a one-man operated cupboard of a shop could offer more of a selection of goods than the large, flashy store here. Incomparable service, too.

Mumbai is such an amazing city, full of life and colour.  There must be so many people like us, with fond memories and family links to the city who are watching the events unfold with sadness this morning.  Packing a suitcase to go off on another trip, we question whether it would be preferable to stay at home.  Any doubts are soon dismissed when experiences such as being in Mumbai for a couple of days are recalled, though.

It's such a privilege to travel, to see and experience far away places but most of all, to meet people and learn a little about their lives.  I find my thoughts keep returning to the people in Mumbai this morning.

A morning walk

An hour or two this morning gave us a chance to go out and see a little of the city. Since we'd visited the usual tourist sights on a previous trip, we chose to walk straight past the Chhashivaji maharaj vastu sangrahalaya (formerly known as the Prince of Wales Museum) and instead, observe the daily life around us.

Some considerable contrasts here - the city is dusty and not exactly sparkly clean, and yet as the workers streamed out of the buses and trains they were remarkably well pressed and smartly dressed. Even at this early hour, it was hot and sticky and we felt far from crisp ourselves!

Every second shop front was full of adverts for mobile phones, for internet and technology of some kind. And yet, there on the street, life was a little more basic for some.

The business dress of the men - pastel shirts and flannels - was in sharp contrast to that of the women who wore the most beautifully coloured sarees and shalwar kameez.

Standing in the Chhatrapati Sivaji Station, formerly known as the Victoria Terminus (VT), we wondered how it was that most of the brightly dressed women got off the train first and stole a march on the rest of the trainfull of passengers. In the five minutes we stood there, several trains came in and went out, giving us ample opportunity to spot the sign on the first carriage, marking it out for women only.

As we stood there, quietly observing the comings and goings, men hurried past us with baskets on their heads, water dripping down their neck from whatever it was inside.

 

Taking a left turn heading back to our hotel, we walked past the grounds of the Bombay Gymkhana

The clubhouse looked as though it had been lifted straight from a Home Counties Village Green!

Finally, I had a mission to resolve. Working on my journal last evening, I discovered that I had left behind my hole punch and a glue stick. Surely somewhere along this street, I would be able to buy replacements? The first place looking anything vaguely like a stationers we saw was a simple hole in the wall type of place, with piles of paper and notebooks. It was worth asking though - and my request was greeted with a nod and immediate presentation of exactly what I was looking for from the shelves to the side of the tiny counter. One single hole punch and two glue sticks - a total cost of 98Rp, which, with 70 Rp to a £, is a bargain by any standards, I reckon.

Delightful service with a smile, too.

We continued back to the Apollo Bunder and mooched around the local tourists who were doing what all tourists do. Taking photos and enjoying being here, just like us.

Up and at 'em

Mumbai is waking up rather slowly this morning. We are bright eyed, bushy tailed and raring to go!

In Mumbai

It's always good to sleep enough on the plane so that upon waking, I'm surprised that we're nearly there! So it was this morning, when the Captain switched on the cabin lights and alerted us to the fact that in just over an hour, we'd be there.

India is such an amazing place, chaotic, spirited and colourful. So disorganised and yet there's a kind of order somewhere in here. And we had forgotten the curious little phrases painted on the vehicles which are somehow held together - but who knows how?

The journey from the airport to our hotel was time to refresh one or two memories and to lead us gently into the short blast of sensory overdose we'll get in the next 24 hours.

Yes, we felt excited to be back even if the 32km journey took us almost two hours!

You might describe the traffic as "heavy".

So, it was a kind of relief when our room wasn't ready and we could go into the coffee shop and order something on the house, to refresh and revive us. This Rose Falooda was absolutely delicious - cool and refreshing with the added surprise of a kind of turkish delight at the bottom. Not only that, but the pink matched the label on the bottle of Himalayan Water perfectly!

  Going up to our room at last, we discovered that we haven't got much of a view... (This is the Gateway to India, btw)

We've investigated the 12 restaurants: European, Mediterranean, Chinese, Grills, Pool Bar, Snacks, International Haute Cuisine, etc etc - and have booked a table in the Indian restaurant. Now that's inventive, isn't it?!