Mumbai - the city of dreams. In my naivety I expected this metropolis to echo my experience of Delhi. How wrong I was!
For such a huge city and an even bigger population, the streets are calm, clean and friendly. Pulling into Bandra station at 5am I was expecting to be swamped by slums and poverty. Instead I found a thriving city waking up to the calls of fish market sellers, and early morning commuter traffic.
My first day introduced me to an animated chap, Ansari, who, after much haggling over price and itinerary, became my city tour guide and subsequently my host to a dinner at his family home in the suburbs. We visited many of the famous sights, taking too many awkward photos. One of my favourite spots included the Dohbi Ghat (or washer man's place). Here, I rolled up my sleeves and joined the army of workers cleaning the thousands of garments that pass through the ghat each day. A fascinating process and one which makes you appreciate the engineering of a washing machine! After a couple of stops at "my friend's shop", we split a lunch of chicken biriyani and chai over looking Chowpatty beach.
The city had a real buzz about it in the build up to Republic Day, one of two days to commemorate India gaining Independence. Mumbai started it's celebrations surprisingly early, 8am. This for a city, and country, who doesn't usually set up shop until 10am earliest. I joined the tens of thousands of proud Mumbaikars to watch one of the oddest parades I've ever witnessed, leaving my Union Jack safely back at the hostel. After a brief radio interview in which I over used the word "excited" but luckily avoided any foot-in-mouth colonial comments, a barrage of weapons, soldiers and multi coloured floats slowly made their way down Marine Drive. A 15 year old avid One Direction fan had attached herself to me thinking I could get her access to Harry(?) Luckily I managed to lose her in the crowds. I admired Mumbai 's organisation to an extent, managing to herd that many people. However they appeared to have overlooked the basic needs, including a drinks supply and washroom, both necessary in 30+°C heat. Had it not been for a finale of famous Bollywood stars waving to their frantic fans from the back of vintage cars, I think most of the crowds would have jumped into the toxic water of the Bay.
The Oval forms a huge cricket playing field in the centre of town. Being Sunday (apparently) there was the weekly huge cricket tournament taking place. I don't think I have ever and will ever again see that many matches being played simultaneously and in such close proximity. Wickets were spaced 5m apart and about 50 different games were occurring. Great for people watching though most of the time I was on the look out for the rogue balls flying towards me.
That evening I met Ansari and together we travelled to his home. Having been introduced to several generations of his extended family and all of the neighbours in his block, his Muslim family decided to have a giggle on the white girl and dress me in a Burkha. It was horrific. Not only is it black, no doubt making it stiflingly hot, it's also quite heavy and chokes you. Allah knows how the women survive during the humid summer months.
An awkward moment pre dinner saw Ansari and a neighbour debate who's hospitality I should take first: dinner at Ansari's or chai at the neighbour's. All parties ended up satisfied (including me); a delicious dinner of chicken fry, chicken curry and dal, followed by Falooda (a strange dessert that's sweet but has the texture and appearance of albino spaghetti hoops) then chai. After many good byes and even a present from the neighbour, I headed home for an early start the next day.
BOLLYWOOD - Hollywood on steroids. No kissing, more violence and everything has to be over the top. I'd read foreigners are often signed up (and paid) for a day's filming. Along with about 20 other tourists, I headed to the film studios. After an assault by the hair and make up team where by I was made to look like something that resembled Barbie, I was thrust into Wardrobe and forced to select a ball gown from a horrific collection. My tactic - if it's going to look bad, make it horrendous. Showing far too much non-existent cleavage for India and in a colour that screamed pasty, I entered the impressive set. The movie, Humshackal to be released in March, is set in The House of Commons. The film's researchers obviously hadn't visited England as the set, though magnificent, held no resemblance to the real thing. Oh and a look-a-like Prince Charles was in attendance. We rehearsed then filmed about 5 different angles of the same shot - a large crowd of mainly Indian old men with a few token whities running away from a man spinning in a wheelchair with a bomb strapped around his neck. All very odd. Hugely insightful and I found the Bollywood "stars" fascinating to observe: speaking to one another only in English, ordering their army of minions around for salads, Starbucks and to touch up their whitened skin. After 12hours of being on set I was free to go and catch my train to Goa, £5 richer.
I hadn't planned to stay in Goa but was forced to due to trains. However on arriving into my paradise of Agonda, one night became five and my natural instinct to sunbathe - thanks to my Griffin genes- kicked in. From the comfort of my sunbed, I watch dolphins play in the bay while cows wander the sands, sometimes investigating me a little too closely and licking my bare skin. By day 2 I was as pink as the shrimps in my prawn vindaloo, but the fresh air, daily morning runs and healthy food was doing wonders.
Day 3 saw me take a much-needed break from the sun and head off on a scooter to explore Goa. No licence checks just a one question interview consisting of "You good drive?" And off I went. Panjim and some of the northern towns have a strong Portuguese ancestry and at times I felt I was in a Mediterranean hillside town. However I was quickly re awakened when the gentle Spanish Riviera feel turned into a cheap version of the Costa del Sol at some of the northern beaches. I quickly made my retreat to the haven of the quiet south, racing the sun as it set. Unfortunately a few wrong turns and poor sign posting meant I very much lost the race and found myself navigating the dark roads, one of the least enjoyable points of the day. Apart from the cows and dogs that turn the road into a mine field, the greatest hazard are the Indian drivers.
Having safely found my way home, I thought my trauma would be over. Oh no, the frogs of Agonda had other ideas. While spending a penny on my much appreciated western loo, I got the shock of my life when a frog jumped up through one of the many holes in my bathroom floor. This was no ordinary frog. He had Olympic standard jumping capabilities, making catching him very difficult. He some how found his way into the toilet and so I did what most human beings would do and shut the lid. I'm praying that by morning he'll have found an exit.....
2 more days of paradise before heading east to.Hampi, my penultimate stop before returning to Kolkata!
