Indiaaargh: 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.