India, day 12.... when Vicki learns that crowds are not her thing
Mumbai is a shock to the system after a week in the towns and villages of Rajasthan. So many people! So much traffic! (Hell, even our arrival was a shock to the system.) We jump into a tuk tuk after breakfast, and our tour guide gives the driver 100 rupees and some instructions in Hindi. Where are we going? Who knows!We have a thrilling ride through the streets of Mumbai until we suddenly stop on a bridge, in the middle of traffic, and our driver shoos us out. Did the fare run out? Where are we?!?! There is nothing around us except cars, trucks, tuk tuks, bicycles, buses, motorbikes, and people.
Look over the edge
Ten minutes later our guide arrives and tells us to look over the edge of the bridge. Ah! Down below we see rows upon rows of laundry, organized by color, spanning an entire city block. Welcome to Dhobi Ghat, the world's largest outdoor laundry, where every day tens of thousands of items from hotels, hospitals and homes are washed by hand and hung out to dry by the families who live and work here, like their parents and grandparents before them. The contrast between this highly organized manual washing operation and the dusty, chaotic street above is incredible.
Remnants of a colonial past
We spend the rest of the morning on foot, doing all the right touristy things. We visit Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus, a fantastic gothic structure, and the Gateway of India, which was built to welcome the King and Queen of England to Bombay. Like high tea at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel, both serve as reminders of India's colonial past (although, like many places in India, Chhatrapati Shivaji Majarah Terminus shed its colonial name, Victoria Terminus, some time ago).
We have lunch at a famous Farsi restaurant, where pictures of the British royal family adorn the walls and the 95 year old owner takes our orders, and peak our heads into Leopold Cafe, an Irani restaurant that was opened in 1871, made famous by Shantaram, and later bombed in the terrorist attacks of 2008. The history of Mumbai is evident in its food, as well as its architecture.
18 million people in Mumbai. Phew.
I'm mesmerized by the flow of human traffic and vehicles, and overwhelmed by the number of people in Mumbai: about 18 million, double the number of people in New York. We pass through an underground mall, where I feel like I'm swimming against the tide, and visit one of the many markets, where it's impossible to move, let alone browse. By early afternoon, I'm done with people.The three of us spend a pleasant afternoon together, looking at wonderful Indian artifacts and art, and I realize: I didn't want to be alone... I just didn't want to drown in a sea of strangers.
We join the rest of our tour group for dinner at Chowpatty beach, where we feast on local street foods, watch families play cricket and paddle in the water—fully clothed, out of modesty—and enjoy a stunning orange sunset, thanks to the smog.
Love at first sight? Sorry, Mumbai—no
On the drive to the airport the next day, we pass the Haji Ali Dargah, a mosque located just a few hundred metres from shore; I'm frustrated that we can't stop. I listen to one of my tour mates talk about her tour through a Mumbai slum, and think about Bollywood, and Slumdog Millionaire, and books I've read and loved that are set in Mumbai, like Last Man In Tower and A Fine Balance.I get the feeling that I've missed out.
You know those places you fall in love with instantly? Delhi stole my heart right away, as did Rajasthan, but Mumbai escaped me. We breezed through, and I got a whiff of interesting cultures, food and architecture, but I didn't fall in love. I want to come back, and next time I will stay longer—because I get the feeling there is much to love here.
And I will definitely NOT arrive on an overnight train.