Rain, rain go away, come again another day

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So, it rained a lot in Mumbai. Like an unbelievable amount. Anyone who has been watching the news has probably seen photos of flooding in Mumbai, where I spent the 4th to 6th of July. We got off the train and were dropped right into it. We were still groggy from the night and when we got off the train our cognitive skills were not all there.

We had a reservation at the Hotel Volga II, but as it turns out there are three Hotel Volga hotels with half a block of each other. It isnt surpising that we were a bit confused. So a guy on the street asked us if we were looking for the Hotel Volga, and we said yes and he took us up to the Hotel. The hotel we thought we were going to was across the street, but we were tired and apathetic and this one was cheaper so we went with it. The rooms were nothing special, a bit damp, but unavoidable with this kind of rain. We checked in and immediately went to sleep.

We knew going in that Mumbai was rainy, but this exceeded all of our expectations. The rain was torrential, and never stopped, except to redouble its efforts. Luckily much of the sidewalk is covered with stalls and stuff so you can walk long distances without getting too wet. Nabil and I wandered, but didnt get to far because of the rain. We lounged around on the first day mostly, and I finally bought my belt and some other stuff.

We ate lunch at McDonalds to attempt to assuage my angry GI tract. The food was ok, but I like American McDs better. We wandered around some more, and then we went out for a really nice meal. We went to a Bistro whose name I cant remember (check the lonely planet for colaba restaurants) who prepared a delicious steak for me. I was feeling nauseous about half-way through, but I managed to down the rest of the steak. The plan for the evening was to hit up some clubs, as Mumbai is known for its nightlife.

Unfortunately, we arrived on a Tuesday night during the off-season. Any club we could find was empty, closed, or charging a very high cover charge. And there were a few we couldnt even find. So we gave up and hung out at a Cafe Leopolds about a block from our hotel.

On Day 2 we woke up and watched Superman Returns. Now I am a pretty easy movie critic, I like just about every movie, but Im sorry I cant endorse this film. It takes itself way too seriously, and honestly, you cant a movie seriously in which the main actor wears a skin tight suit and a cape. There were so many interesting things that they could have done with the plot, but they didnt do any of them. At least I got to watch a movie in Mumbai's famed movie theaters. So it wasnt all bad.

We took a stroll up Mohatma Gandhi road in the afternoon and saw the sights as best we could while trying to stay at least mildly dry. We were pretty much sucessful. Mumbai is a very westernized city and you can get a pretty good brownie without too much trouble.

We ate dinner at this really good tandoori grill, I had a delicious chicken do piazza, some of the best food Ive had in India. During dinner I commented that we have survived this trip so far without any major incidents, knock on wood. We both laughed and agreed.

When we returned to our hotel after the meal, we were met with rampany confusion and angst. Our hotel manager, Jafar Iqbal (Same name as Nabils dad), ran over to us and told us to come talk to this American. He thought that our American-ness would help the situation in some way I guess. So we go into the room and there is a guy, sprawled on the bed, leaning against the wall, shirtless, with one shoe on. It wasnt clear at all what was going on. So we started talking with him and I asked him if he was ok, he said "no", I asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital, he said yes. I thought this was pretty open and shut. Hes sick and wants to go to the hospital - so lets make it happen. It was then that I was filled in with the backstory.

Apparently the guy came in (he was named Eric, just like the guy in Ajunta), fine, checked in, fine, everything was fine. He talked with one of the guys on the streets, a sleazeball, and when he came back, he was filled, in their words, with "tension". Now the rational first explanation is drugs. He did seem a bit whacked out, though we found out that it was his first day in India, he was traveling alone, and India is pretty raw. I could see how this might make you seem a bit crazy if it were your first time. I dont think he needed any help to be crazy though.

When Eric came back into the hotel in the evening, he was "full of tension" and the manager talked to him for 2 hours. He decided that he didnt want him to spend the night, he was afraid of what could happen, and decided it was our job to get him to leave and go to the Salvation Army Hostel. Now this guy was huge, with a huge beer belly, I feel like he used to be in the Army several years ago and it sent him over the edge. Jafar Iqbal was also jacked from going to the gym every day. So I wasnt concerned for my safety too much. Jafars brother was also there, and he was huge too. So we were talking with this guy and the mental machinery didnt seem to be functioning correctly. We told him he had to go and he said "I gotta stay". This simple answer was returned to more complex requests, and we even offered to take his bag for him. At this point it was about 10:30, and the hostel closed at 11:00. We were going nowhere. In the end, Jafar gave in because the guy agreed to leave in the morning. Jafar threatened to call the cops and get him deported, and we tried to use this as leverage, but he wouldnt budge.

So off I went to watch a World Cup game, leaving the problem of Eric behind. I got a tap on the shoulder, Jafar wanted me to talk the guy into going back to his room. I walked back to near our room where there was a kichenette. Eric had his hands on the kitchenette and was kneeling on the floor. His shirt was wrapped around his hand as if to staunch a flow of blood or something. Anything was possible. We got him back into his room. Jafar insisted that he sleep with his door open so that they could check on him throughout the night. *phew* All done... 5 minutes later.... tap.... Eric had wandered back and was sitting on the stairs up to the shared bathroom. Just sitting there... The asked him to go back to his room and he eventually did. Jafar was starting to get very very angry and frustrated at this point. I went to sleep at halftime hoping to avoid the situation. 15 minutes later... knock, knock, knock Jafar: "We found him asleep in the shower, tell him to go back to sleep"..... Me:"Eric, go back to your room!".... 15 minutes later... knock, knock, knock.... Open the door to see two constables in the hall, Eric sitting on a stair, and a gaggle of Indians aggravated. Turns out the cops dont want to deal with him either, we go back to sleep... 30 minutes later... knock, knock, knock... Jafar: "I'm going to call the consulate" (to us:"do you have their number") I pulled out the Lonely Planet and got the number for the Embassy in Delhi and he called the consulate... 15 mins later... knock, knock, knock (this was getting ridiculous) ... Jafar: "Here, they want to talk to you" Me: "Uh yeah.... Theres this guy here, I dont know him, hes gone a bit mentally unhinged." Consulate: "Uh, what do you want me to do about it? Im only a security guard? And dont you know that it is 3:30 in the morning?" Me: "YES I KNOW"... Handed the phone back to Jafar, waited, didnt even bother locking both locks, the knocks came and he told us they were coming at 8:30 in the morning. When we left for the airport at 5am, after a total of maybe 2 hours of awful sleep, Jafar was sitting up in the lobby, Eric was sleeping on his bed. I think everything was ok. We're going to call and find out out of curiosity.

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