Back in Mumbai...

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Ordeal of the train over, we made it out of Dadar station thanks to a very persistant but seemingly pretty reasonable tout. To be honest, I didn't really care about whether we paid over the odds for a cab - I just wanted to be back at the hotel. Got to his car, though, and I started to have second thoughts. The car was more rust than metal, with a boot that didn't shut and upholstery that had definitely seen better days.

Still, it's India, and I was working on the basis that if the car had survived long enough to reach such an advanced stage of dilapidation then he can't be such a bad driver. And for the first time in Mumbai, he actually turned the meter on. I thought they were there for decorative use only...

Our cabbie was a man of contrasts. Simply would not shut up. Thought I was back in London for a bit. He'd have made even the mouthiest of black cab drivers seem reticent. But his driving was a model of restraint. See later for my theory on this. Anyway, topics of conversation ranged from the normal - What do you think of India? - through some German's attempts to order pizza in Mumbai, to the extent of the floods in Mumbai last year. Also covered the wearing of uniforms as a cab driver, the best place to change money (a friend of his, funnily enough...), autorickshaws, why Indians prefer one day to test cricket, the rush hour in Mumbai, the difficulty of emigrating to Canada, his cousin in Southall, etc etc.

And here's the theory for the combination of super safe driving, and super mouthy conversation. Turns out he'd come straight from a party to his cab. Now he certainly didn't smell of booze - or seem even slightly drunk. Inability to shut up? Combined with what would seem to be an absolute terror of attracting any (traffic police) attention to his driving? Theory is that he was speeding his tits off - in a chemical sense, rather than in a traffic sense...

Still, got us to the hotel ok, and didn't overcharge, all our bags were still there, and we got the right change. To be honest, he was so dodgy that I'm sure he ripped us off somewhere down the line, but I have no idea how. I'd love to know. Maybe he somehow stole a kidney off each of us? Or hypnotised us into giving us our bank account details? Or maybe the dodgiest taxi driver in the world was actually just an honest man with a bit of a taste for amphetamines...

Anyway, got to the hotel. Apart from an impressively powerful stench of human excrement outside the hotel, it was totally fine. Initial panic when the very nice but, frankly, clueless staff realised they'd double booked our room, but it got sorted out ok in the end.

Was good to be back in Mumbai. I realised that I actually really like the city - it has an extremely appealing combination of total chaos and a very laid-back attitude. Stuff happening wherever you looked, but nothing that couldn't stop for the chance to chew some paan, or nip into somewhere for a quick bite of something deep-fried and spicy.

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Photos

Chowpatty beach
Yes, it does look this cool in real life.

Bhel puri on the beach
Note the absence of any other Westerners on the mats. Do they know something we don't?

Comments

[gandoo]

two thumbs up!
kem cho, choida. maney lageloo taney india mah majaa aveli. must blog che. ek sawal. gujarat, kem nati gaylo?