India 2007

I head out for a drink, but the busy bars I saw earlier are even busier. The resturant where I stopped earlier has families, seated, waiting outside. This is a busy city. I am heading back to the hotel and decide to stop at the Iranian place I saw earlier. I’m not fealling very hungry, but have the house specialty kebab, which is good.

Whilst eating a German chap shares my table. At first he isn’t very chatty, but we soon get conversion started. He is German, is married to an Indian, is an art dealer, and lives and works between Goa and Germany.

He remarks that it is very warm for the time of year. He talks about Goa, and I ask many questions. He refers to Goa as a magical place several times, and I am so looking forward to spending some time there. It sounds exactly like the sort of place I am looking to spend some time. I sounds like a perfect place to spend a winter, although not this one as I have travel plans for Southeast Asia – but maybe next year, if I want to do a lot of writing.

He is interested in my trip from Nepal, especially about northern India, which he has not visited in his 15 years of living in India. We discuss the vast differences between the north and south.

It was great chatting to him – I never did get his name.

Note: Bombay is now called Mumbai

My flight (on which was served a good, gut busting curry, and satellite TV) lands in Mumbai. From the air it is easy to see that the city is a massive collection of prosperous city offices, high rise apartments and endless slums. The area around the airport is particularly littered with slums.

Once outside I feel the heat. At last some hot weather in India! Surprisingly it takes me a minute to get a taxi, but I wave off the AC taxis, and those without meters, and jump in a classic Mumbai yellow and black taxi. The first of my Mumbai experiences ticked off the list. We head across town, which is extensive. There and endless sites to take in, including dozens of cricket matches, a few temples and the wonderful looking Chowpatty beach.

I have opted for the Bentley Hotel in the Colaba traveler region. The amusing taxi driver doesn’t know the Bentley and asks around. Thankfully they have a room, albeit in a different building. The room is fair enough, more than I would like to pay (INR985), but is clean, has a shower and breakfast is included. Not too bad then.

The Colaba region is fantastic. A mixture of big stores, little stores, street vendors, cafes, and all the usual stuff. It’s a leafy area which so reminds me of European cities like Barcelona, Paris and Madrid.

After washing all of my clothes, which are filthy, and I figure will dry in this high heat, I head out for a walk. I walk up to the Gateway of India, which looks majestic, but I don’t get too close. I will save it for tomorrow. I take a lake along the riverside and head back to the main street.

I wander around and find the touts not too bad, so I take an interest in what is for sale. I noticed a guy with a nice Indian style top, and decide I would like one. I find a stall selling similar items and after bartering reasonable well I end up with 2 nice tops for (INR400). I pass a few cafes and decide to stop on the way back up for chai. I also notice several great looking European style bars, which are all full. Hopefully tomorrow will allow me a space. I stop at a book shop, and buy the Google Story and Che Gavara’s Motorcycle Diaries. Both books I want to read, and hopefully I will get into them more than my Stephen King novel.

I head back to the hotel, not before stopping for chai and samosas, at proper Indian prices, and start reading the Google book. Back at the hotel I wash the filthy clothes I am wearing, and write this sitting in my underwear, which reminds me of hot Ibiza nights with my mate Steve. It was so hot we used to sit on the balcony in our underwear – talking about girls, just so that you understand.

I have noticed several anti-corruption slogans here in Jaipur airport, printed onto A4 sheets and stuck onto pillars.

I guess the idea is to encourage people to not tolerate any acts of corruption from officials within the airport.

My favorite is “Vigilance is Wise, Corruption is vice”.

2 weeks of very early starts means I naturally wake early, which I rather like. I opt for a hearty breakfast, as I might not see lunch today, due to my flight. I order a taxi and spend an hour online.

I check out of the hotel and am pleased to not only find that the taxi price is fixed and included on my hotel bill, but the waiting taxi is an Ambassador, the classic British car still widely used as taxis in India.

It’s a pleasant ride to the airport. The traffic is much quieter that in other cities in India.

The airport is small, and I’m a little early so I have to wait. Once through security, having exchanged nice smiles with the beautiful women staff, and forgetting my sleeping bag at security, I settle with a cup of tea.

I notice I am the only westerner here. There are a few Asian people, and Indians speaking English, suggesting they are from the south of India.

Compared to Delhi airport, Jaipor airport has more services, is better run and is just generally better.

I just went to the travel agents here at the Hotel Arya Niwas, and booked a flight to Mumbai. The flight is just INR4,700 (US$110 / GBP£55). There was no direct flight to Goa, so I will spend two nights in Mumbai, and then catch a train down to Goa.

I get up early and say goodbye to everyone on the Dragoman trip. It’s been great traveling with them and I’ve loved the trip. I am now keen to get traveling under my own steam. Without the option of a motorbike I have decided not to visit the small out of the way places I had planned, such as Pushkar. I will save these places for when I return to India and travel with a motorbike. For the remainder of this trip I will stick to major destinations using trains and occasional buses.

After breakfast I read through the guide book. I am thinking of flying or taking the train directly to Mumbai (Bombay) or Goa.

Once back at the hotel Rob and I head down the main road in search of motorbike dealers. We find the one suggested by Eugene. I chat with the guy there. Prices are cheap, a brand new TVS 110cc bike costs INR45,000 (US$1,125 / GBP£562), and the impressive 160cc machine is INR65,000 (US$1,625 / GBP£3,250). These are fantastic prices, much cheaper than in the west. But, as I head read and suspected, the guy confirms that it will take up to 7 days for the paperwork to be completed for me to buy a bike. I cannot spare 7 days, and this rules out buying a motorbike here in India.

I am a little disappointed, but quickly change my thinking to spend the rest of my time in India visiting the major, easy to reach, destinations by train and bus. I will leave the little, out of the way, places until I return to India with more time in the future.