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Our journey to Bombay was a grueling experience—masses of people, who for some odd reason thought that pushing and shoving might be more effective than forming simple and efficient lines at check in, a several hour delay from Bangalore (to be expected on Air Deccan) and a bombardment of Bombay taxi drivers all trying to lure us into their cars.
Around midnight, we finally made it to Hotel Outram… a real jewel of a hotel in the heart of Bombay’s Fort district. HA, PSYCH! The “mattresses” were about an inch thick, the entire place smelled like mold and we woke up to the sound of some one throwing up (both mornings). I suppose that’s what you get for paying $6 a night/person in overpriced Bombay.
On Saturday morning, we met Arti, a friend from Penn, for some good food and sightseeing. We were all delighted to get a continental breakfast at Basilica. Afterwards, we hit up the Taj Mahal Hotel. The Taj is one of the nicest hotels in Bombay and a true landmark. At the turn of the 20th century, Tata (an Indian industrialist and businessman) was infuriated when he was denied entry in to a European
Gateway of India
The structure was built to commemorate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary to Bombay in 1911... the Indian government ran out of money and couldn't finish the road that was to lead up to the monument.hotel so he built a hotel to outshine all the others. It’s on the water and several hundred feet away from the Gateway of India, Bombay’s Statue of Liberty or Arc d’Triumph. We were all attacked by little boys and men trying to sell us everything from human-sized balloons to magnets. Normally we just ignore them and keep on walking, but Ryan couldn’t resist and started making friends with the vendors. He felt compelled to buy egg-shaped magnets that you can do magic tricks with.
The group decided to go shopping for some Indian style clothing—unfortunately for Ryan, he was the only boy in a group of five girls. Arti took us to Westside and Fabindia, two stores where we all found salwar kamis’ and kurtis a plenty. On our way to Fabindia, we passed by a sugar cane juice stand. The guy stuffs sugar canes into a huge machine, which squeezes out all the juice. Although extremely tasty and refreshing, I’m pretty the juice was tainted with evil bacteria that made me sick. We also hit up an amazing seafood restaurant, where we had prawns, several kinds of fish, bowlfuls of rice and platefuls of naan.
Arti
Streetvendor
Someone selling snacks to tourists at the Gateway. took us to her grandma’s apartment where we met a couple of her family members and crashed before a fun night on the town. Ashok, Arti’s childhood friend and current USC student, met up with us for some more continental cuisine (can you tell that we wanted to take a break from Indian food) and dancing at Indus, a Hindi music club. Even though the crowded consisted mostly of slightly sketchy Indian IT men in their 30s, we stuck together and danced the night away, practicing our Bhangra moves (such as screw the lightbulb, pet the dog, raise the roof). Ashok, an avid Bollywood fan, knew every word.
The next day, we split up so that we could each do our own thing. Yuko met up with Natisha, a friend from Penn. Ryan and me (jel) met Kamil, one of my sister’s friends frm NYU, a hit up a rooftop café on the water and then went to the Prince of Wales Museum. The Emilys had a hardcore adventure, asking rickshaw drivers to take them to the nearest market. Somehow, the ended up at a temple, where they were ushered in and invited to partake in some sort of
Sealing the deal
Ryan bargaining with the kid who sold magnets. religious procession.
We all met up and went to Arti’s apartment in the suburbs and had an amazing home cooked meal. Her parents would not stop feeding us and we were all left stuffed. It’s a good thing we got to try on her mom’s saris before we ate.
The plane ride back was pretty painless and we even made friends with Nassir Pasha, a very friendly taxi driver who insisted on giving us his mobile number in case we ever needed him to drive us anywhere in India.
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