Knackered/lost in Mumbai

Whenever I mentioned I was going to India the vast majority of people smirkingly asked me if I was 'going there to find myself', and I would of course say: 'no, no not really', then tell them to fuck themselves and then smash a pool cue around their heads (in my mind). Now that I'm here though, I think that whilst I haven't exactly found myself or anything lame like that, I have realised a few things more clearly. The first thing I have realised is that my sense of direction, although I knew it was bad, is terrible. Not just terrible, worse than I could ever possibly have imagined. Worse than anything. What possessed me to start this trip in a 603 km city with a population of 11 million people I will never know, but I did, and it resulted in me essentially getting lost on average about five or six times a day for four days. Naturally I blame the Indians as much as myself. They don't like to admit they don't know where you want to go so if you ask for direction they just smile, point vaguely West and say something cryptic like 'second place', or they yammer something unintelligible at you and you end up too embarrassed to admit you don't know what they've told you so you just walk on none the wiser, walking further from the intended destination than ever before. I don't know why I do this. (Is it a British trait or a personal one?) regardless, you see what I've been dealing with. My incompetence has meant my initial sightseeing was far from ideal to begin with, traipsing in 35 degree heat for hours, delving into my rucksack every five minutes to consult my shit Lonely Planet map (a guy I met calls it the Lonely Liar) and then still getting it wrong. Still, I saw loads of the city and found some pretty rad stuff even if I did find it by accident. The Victoria Terminus station was one thing - amazing - and I also saw Haji Ali's mosque. The mosque is mega, like something our of Aladdin, standing in the pink sunset on a jetty in the Arabian Sea, although there were pure beggars hanging outside next to loads of goat and cows and mounds of appalling shit, waving stumps and so on around which kind of dampened my mojo of discovery somewhat. I also saw some mad sunsets at Back Bay and the Hanging Gardens too where they hang dead bodies for some reason (though you can't see them) which attracts eagles and other large and intimidating birds. I also rode the train, hanging out of the door, up to the Mahalaxmi Dhobi Ghat where loads of blokes were washing laundry, which is honestly a lot more interesting than it sounds. Other shit too which I cant be arsed to describe. I realise I'm banging on a bit here now but suffice to say I caught a 15 hour night train from Mumbai and a load of mental buses to Hampi where I am now where I've been riding motorbikes around the mountains. Hampi is a place that I can honestly say is as close to a paradise as I've ever seen. The highlights of the journey to Hampi were being surrounded at Guntakal station by about fifty children like I was Charles Bronson in the Magnificent Seven, and being awoken from my trusty valium sleep in my 'sleeper carriage' (sleeping on the the bunks is like trying to sleep on a washing machine) by a screaming baby and having to sit there in the dark whilst the mother changed the kid's nappy and filled the entire cabin with the smell of noxious milky poo vapour. I will leave you with that. Below are some photos, although another thing I've realised is that I'm not a very good photographer either.

a bit of Victoria Terminus (really doesn't do it justice)

Sunset at Back Bay

The mosque (it's a lot bigger in real life obviously)

Although the water by the mosque was inviting, I had unfortunately forgotten my swimming trunks

It would be easy to be mean here but this woman was one of the nicest people I've met whilst I've been away.

Another of the sleeper carriage - unfortunately it has me in it. Apologies.

Alex and Rupert bossing it, and my bike. Costs a quid and you get it for the day.

A couple of the Jurassic Park style views from Hannuman's temple up on a boulder mountain in Hampi.

A wonderful bistro in Mumbai and a crap shot of Hampi where you get the ferry over to the hostel where I am inflicting myself.

Arrival.

I am sure that those of you bothering to read this will be delighted to hear that I have arrived in Mumbai now. The three valiums I ate made the flight dreamy, the landing surreal and made me too terrified to do anything but shuffle timidly to a grinning taxi driver on arrival, paying the man far too much to get me to where I needed to be. I have barely left Europe my whole life so imagine my slack jawed disbelief at the sight of this very hot and very strange place filled with people lying on the floor, shouting, running and weaving wicker baskets beneath tarpaulins under motorway overhangs. After a hair whitening hour long taxi ride through dusty traffic (traffic laws? WHAT TRAFFIC LAWS??)to the Gateway of India, a huge monument overlooking the harbour, I wandered around for a while to attempt to find my bearings, but found them largely elusive. Some half hour or so into my uneasy two mile sojourn around the streets of Colaba and the surrounding market area of Fort, I was accosted by a man with a moustache named Babu. Babu tried to sell me a map I did not want and was delighted to hear that I am an Englishmen; the next thing I knew he was buying me a cup of chai tea and we were having some beers, however, I soon found myself paying for everything including a 'salad' for him, and ultimately sat there looking at the door whilst he described his appreciation of cricket to me in incredibly broken English. Having escaped from Babu, scribbling his number down in my notebook with the empty assurance that I would call him and we would meet up again today, I went to 'Leopold's' (against Babu's advice), a supposedly trendy hotspot that, after my bloody minded insistence that I go there, ironically turned out to be of poor quality. Still, they served me curry and cheap beer and I was able to amuse myself with dry judgmental assumptions about the clientele, so it wasn't a total loss. After dinner I walked around some more and tried to take photos but the flash on my camera appears to be faulty. This, in addition to the aggressively slurred shouts of a man demanding to know why I was taking photos, led to a swift retreat back to my cheap and cheerful salvation army hostel for the evening where I was obliged to ignore the lizard that bolted from the door when I went to brush my teeth, and compelled to perpetrate a small cockroach holocaust before bed. As I hurled myself into a rather sweaty slumber I managed around two minutes of conversation with my American bunk mate who seemed pleasant enough. However I discovered this morning that he has now left India for good. I hope it wasn't something I said. I am now in an internet cafe about to go on another wander. Later I am planning to visit the Global Pagoda and some place called Elephanta Island, both of which must be accessed by ferry. Apparently Elephanta Island has a massive statue of Shiva, which presumably gives it its name. Either that or there are a number of rampaging Pachyderms trapped in a very enclosed space where they send annoying tourists such as myself to, for a small price. After that I shall probably eat more curry and drink more beer.