Mumbai and I don’t seem to gel – last time I was here I arrived back in the UK with a bad bout of dysentery, this time I arrive with the remnants of the bug that laid me low yesterday. And this time, to make me even more miserable, I am also “Antless” as he flew back early this morning from Chennai. I arrive in Mumbai in the economy section of Jet Airways, Ant had lorded it back to the UK in the First Class cabin of British Airways. On balance however, even though Mumbai and I don’t really get on, it is still probably preferable to the cold of the UK and I’m sure Ant would agree.
As the plane descended into the city, we flew over the shanty towns spread around the airport, they seemed to go on for miles. And given this is India’s glittering, high society city, the home of Bollywood etc, they seemed a bad introduction. I negotiate a cab at the airport – and take the long drive into the city. Still no signs of fabulous Mumbai – only the most disgusting stink every time we passed over the numerous river bridges… However, they do seem to be making an effort to clean the place up and there are large signs telling you the fines for peeing (and other things….) in the street. 200 rupee fine for a public wee, but only 100 rupee fine for “defecating” – not sure why this is cheaper – perhaps something to do with the filth and you are less likely to be able to control the latter with all the germs and bugs about – all I could hope was that my bug didn’t return with a vengeance otherwise I would be bankrupt paying the fines…. The signs also tell you to “Belt up, it’s the law” – strange really as it’s a city of ancient cabs with not a seatbelt between them. All in all, I was in great danger of breaking every law in the book! But the exhortations on the posters (all in English, so how the local population are expected to understand and act upon these instructions is beyond me) to clean up etc feels a little like “too little, too late”. At night the city streets becomes a huge dormitory with sleeping bodies everywhere, and for life of me I couldn’t see where all these people could legally go to the loo even if they wanted to….
I am sure that my hotel, just off Marine Drive must be in a better part of town. How wrong can you be. OK, the location was good but that is about all. I wasn’t sure it was actually a hotel at all when I arrived – the whole ground floor was missing and covered in tarpaulin with a sign that said “Hotel Reception, 5th Floor”. I reluctantly let the taxi go and ventured in. Not an auspicious start as I get in the ancient lift (the kind with a grille pushed across by the attendant) – the floor of the lift and the floor of the building never quite in sync. The Reception was no better – it looks like a lower class Indian business hotel, full of Indian men with not a woman – Indian or otherwise in sight. Still not feeling my best I decided to go with the flow and was shown to my room – strangely enough the same room number as I had had in the previous swisher affair in Chennai – but what a difference a city makes! This room was more akin to a public lavatory (see pics just in case you think I am being extra fussy) – all white tiles (many badly cracked – a bit of a worry as the ground floor was being held up with bamboo scaffolding….) and all this for about £50 a night – who said India was cheap?. Two of the smallest single beds I have ever seen, no outside window to speak of and a bathroom that I would have felt dirtier having washed in than not. It was all too much so I decided sod Mumbai, I was outta here at the earliest opportunity. The one saving grace of the hotel was Wifi (frankly they would have been better off cleaning the place up rather than spending their money on fancy Wifi) and a phone so I spent the next couple of hours rearranging hotels and flights to leave the next morning. I hadn’t eaten for over 24 hours so decided a bit of food was called for, but not here. I had spied the Intercontinental just down the road so repaired there for sustenance. One of the reasons I had booked into my hotel and not one of the Western chains (apart from the ridiculous amounts of money they were charging) was that I thought I would feel safer after the recent bombings. I realise now though eating my sandwich and coffee at the Interconty, that my fear of international terrorists is obviously less than my fear of another stomach bug…. I had a wander down Marine Drive and then back to my “lav” – the bed at least looked clean – well the bottom sheet did – there wasn’t a top one, just the bedspread – thank goodness I had my trusty silk sleeping bag with me as I sank into sleep – for a while that is. As well as a hotel, I think the building was also used as a dish version of a “Dhobi wallah” – all night in a procession past my room, I could hear dishes being carried by and loud voices chatting as the pots and pans were rattled and washed down the corridor. I’ve no idea where all the dishes were from, as the hotel didn’t even have a restaurant. One of these days I will make it third time lucky in Mumbai and actually see what Mumbai is all about, but this time I was pleased to be leaving for what I hope are the more pleasant pastures of Goa.
As the plane descended into the city, we flew over the shanty towns spread around the airport, they seemed to go on for miles. And given this is India’s glittering, high society city, the home of Bollywood etc, they seemed a bad introduction. I negotiate a cab at the airport – and take the long drive into the city. Still no signs of fabulous Mumbai – only the most disgusting stink every time we passed over the numerous river bridges… However, they do seem to be making an effort to clean the place up and there are large signs telling you the fines for peeing (and other things….) in the street. 200 rupee fine for a public wee, but only 100 rupee fine for “defecating” – not sure why this is cheaper – perhaps something to do with the filth and you are less likely to be able to control the latter with all the germs and bugs about – all I could hope was that my bug didn’t return with a vengeance otherwise I would be bankrupt paying the fines…. The signs also tell you to “Belt up, it’s the law” – strange really as it’s a city of ancient cabs with not a seatbelt between them. All in all, I was in great danger of breaking every law in the book! But the exhortations on the posters (all in English, so how the local population are expected to understand and act upon these instructions is beyond me) to clean up etc feels a little like “too little, too late”. At night the city streets becomes a huge dormitory with sleeping bodies everywhere, and for life of me I couldn’t see where all these people could legally go to the loo even if they wanted to….
I am sure that my hotel, just off Marine Drive must be in a better part of town. How wrong can you be. OK, the location was good but that is about all. I wasn’t sure it was actually a hotel at all when I arrived – the whole ground floor was missing and covered in tarpaulin with a sign that said “Hotel Reception, 5th Floor”. I reluctantly let the taxi go and ventured in. Not an auspicious start as I get in the ancient lift (the kind with a grille pushed across by the attendant) – the floor of the lift and the floor of the building never quite in sync. The Reception was no better – it looks like a lower class Indian business hotel, full of Indian men with not a woman – Indian or otherwise in sight. Still not feeling my best I decided to go with the flow and was shown to my room – strangely enough the same room number as I had had in the previous swisher affair in Chennai – but what a difference a city makes! This room was more akin to a public lavatory (see pics just in case you think I am being extra fussy) – all white tiles (many badly cracked – a bit of a worry as the ground floor was being held up with bamboo scaffolding….) and all this for about £50 a night – who said India was cheap?. Two of the smallest single beds I have ever seen, no outside window to speak of and a bathroom that I would have felt dirtier having washed in than not. It was all too much so I decided sod Mumbai, I was outta here at the earliest opportunity. The one saving grace of the hotel was Wifi (frankly they would have been better off cleaning the place up rather than spending their money on fancy Wifi) and a phone so I spent the next couple of hours rearranging hotels and flights to leave the next morning. I hadn’t eaten for over 24 hours so decided a bit of food was called for, but not here. I had spied the Intercontinental just down the road so repaired there for sustenance. One of the reasons I had booked into my hotel and not one of the Western chains (apart from the ridiculous amounts of money they were charging) was that I thought I would feel safer after the recent bombings. I realise now though eating my sandwich and coffee at the Interconty, that my fear of international terrorists is obviously less than my fear of another stomach bug…. I had a wander down Marine Drive and then back to my “lav” – the bed at least looked clean – well the bottom sheet did – there wasn’t a top one, just the bedspread – thank goodness I had my trusty silk sleeping bag with me as I sank into sleep – for a while that is. As well as a hotel, I think the building was also used as a dish version of a “Dhobi wallah” – all night in a procession past my room, I could hear dishes being carried by and loud voices chatting as the pots and pans were rattled and washed down the corridor. I’ve no idea where all the dishes were from, as the hotel didn’t even have a restaurant. One of these days I will make it third time lucky in Mumbai and actually see what Mumbai is all about, but this time I was pleased to be leaving for what I hope are the more pleasant pastures of Goa.
