A Bombay Day

I arrived in Mumbai at noon or so, and I’m not gonna lie, I was a little worried. Apparently, through a miscommunication on my part (read on the part of the unorganized Indian immigration people), I was at risk of facing big fines and deportation for violating the rules of my Visa. I inched along in the hot, crowded, semi-fan cooled immigration line; each step closer to the start or abrupt end of my Asian adventures.

I finally got up to the desk, and he stamped my passport and I moved on. Done.

I got out to the taxi stand and got a prepaid ticket to my hotel, which cost about 4 dollars. All the cabs were vintage 60s big body cars, and everyone had slacks and mustaches, which combined to give the effect that I had been transported back in time (I have had the feeling since, numerous times, that India has really gone all out to keep the 70s going). As the cab driver screeched out of the parking spot and immediately started honking his horn at anything moving in his line of sight, I knew I was in for a treat. We got out into Mumbai traffic, which was dominated by 100s of little auto rickshaws; 3-wheeled vehicles with a covered and sometimes enclosed back with a bench seat. Both the rickshaws and the cabs are done up in classic black and yellow cab designs. The driving style on a typical Mumbai street is inching forward as much as possible, disregarding lanes or intersections, and laying down on your horn, as a greeting, as a warning, as an inspiration for the person in front to inch ahead more.

My first non-airport Indian experience was quite sensuous, there were the clouds of dust (and smog), the loud and busy construction projects, the abrupt acceleration and braking of the cab, the drone of car horns, the smell of… I’m not sure, and the woman in their brightly colored saris all around. I took in a deep breath to emphasize my feeling of aliveness, and then thought to myself that whilst sitting in Mumbai traffic is probably not the best time for deep breathes.

We couldn’t find the hotel at first, so I got extra time to take in the bustling streets of Andheri, the suburb I was staying in. My accommodations here were probably one of the cheapest options in all of Mumbai, which is actually a really expensive city. I stayed in a dorm that was for Indian business men travelling on a budget; there were 18 beds but there were never more than 6 people staying there, the bed cost me 4 bucks a night, and the ‘hot water’ was actually hot (I have gotten used to cheap hotels in the developing world shamelessly lying about amenities, so when said amenities actually exist its quite a happy occaision). The mean streets of Mumbai were pretty overwhelming, so I slowly weaned myself into them, spending time in the dorm bed doing work, and then slowly expanding my bubble by walking up and down the surrounding streets.

On the second day I headed into downtown Mumbai, at the midday rush hour, on the most crowded train system in the world. It was absolutely hectic. There were literally 3 times more people on these train cars than the most crowded subway car in New York that I have been on. No personal space, whatsoever. I literally had an Indian man’s head in my armpit while I was holding an overhead handle, and he was applying slightly more pressure than I found comfortable. Getting on and off these trains is quite fun, you get to yell and push and all that good stuff; the most fun is trying to get off the train as a large crowd is also trying to get onboard. They even have ladies only train cars so that presumably wandering hands aren’t constantly violating women, which would be way too easy to get away with. The fare on the 35 minute train ride was 8 cents.  

I walked aimlessly around downtown Mumbai for about 8 hours, stopping and grabbing snacks and chai along the way; the snacks ranged from 5 to 15 rupees, or 10 to 30 cents, and the Chai is good enough that I had to remember to monitor my intake as to not get heart palpitations from all the caffeine (I mean, when they are everywhere, delicious, and cost like 4 to 10 cents for a cup, why not have 12?). On my walk around I got to see some great art-deco architecture, as well as some really grand colonial structures. I walked through one neighborhood that seemed quite out of place; blocks away from grand buildings and affluent society were long winding roads jam packed with women selling produce, men loitering and adorning mustaches, children running around, and lots and lots and lots of livestock doing their thing. At one point I was watching a guy sharpen knives with a bicycle that he had rigged up into a sharpening device and I felt someone bump into me; I turned to acknowledge this person and it was a goat. A walk down this street was not unlike a petting zoo in terms of density of cows and goats and chickens… there were even a few pigs!

As the sun went down, temporary clothing stores started popping up everywhere; I bought a few proper button-up shirts because it seemed everybody in Mumbai was wearing one and because they cost like 3 bucks a piece (they were nice enough that I didn't even attempt to haggle, but I probably could have got them for 2); I would be such a rampant consumer if stuff was so cheap in the States.

I got a train back up to Andheri around 9 or 10 and there was much more personal space to be had this time around. Then, after being taught about the meter system on rickshaws by a guy I met at a restaurant, I was confident that I wouldn't get ripped off on a ride from the train station back to the hotel (the actual price is NOT what the meter says, 100 on the meter is equal to 11 rupees or 22 cents, and then it slowly goes up from there, a 45 minute ride is less than 2 dollars if you know what you are doing). I got back completely exhausted from the onslaught of Mumbai and slept for 11 hours straight. I woke up the next morning (read afternoon) recharged and ready to explore the hip, beachside suburbs of North Mumbai.