La vie en rose in Jaisalmer...

                  Awakening at a relaxing 8.30 am to the mooing of a couple of cows in the alley at the rear of the hotel. Not complaining, but my beauty sleep had been disturbed earlier, by the 6 o’clock early call to prayers, bellowed out by the loudspeakers of the nearby mosque. Just call it culturally enriching!

Now, that is how to carry a sewing machine....

              I am staying at hotel that rejoices in the name ‘The New Tokyo Palace’' located in central Jaisalmer. According to the front desk wallah, a Japanese tourist so enjoyed his visit to these parts, that he decided to return & set up shop here. Apparently, he also owns a restaurant in Tokyo and directs a stream of Japanese tourists ---not seen any myself---but am assured they will be arriving soon when the cooler  weather takes hold. Actually. seen very few identifiable tourists so far on my trip—probably a lot more domestic & overseas Indian tourists, but of course, I cannot easily identify them from the masses.

          My wanderings around the town tend to be limited to 2-3 hours a day, as the mid-day sun is brutal with a litre of pilled water, consumed for every kilometre forward—how is that for motive efficiency.

          A tourist town with very few tourists, the street hustlers & promoters of Jaisalmer are very aggressive---the top attractions are a trip to the ‘real’ desert and a ride on a camel up a major sand dune. Not worth the effort/money according to several tourists (Australian) with whom I have chatted. Most of the half-day trip, is in fact, side excursions to villages where visitors are pitched to buy tourist nic-nacs of a dubious quality. The calls from local street vendors of  “where you from?” ring in ones ears consistently. When I say (to those who

need to know), I sense that I am being set up for a special (Canada) high price, or perhaps I am just cynical in my senior years!

            Any way, it’s lots of fun and being privileged to visit these exotic locales, one has to realise that every day life for the masses here must be really tough compared to the molly-coddled existence that so many enjoy in the West & for whom an internet outage of 5 minutes, is a life crisis!

Jaisalmer--India's wild west!...

           Arose at 3.30am ready to find my driver to take me to Jodhpur railway station for the early train to . Getting into the groove of the Indian railway system thing. I have bumped into several other tourists and while exchanging tourist chat discovered that in frustration have abandoned the whole India rail travel project due to the bureaucratic complexity of ticket purchase & seat reservation, opting for air or bus transport between cities.

Sleeping  rough......

Jaisalmer

          At 4.15am the large concourse in front of the station and the platforms were packed with masses of  men women & children camped out. They did not seem to have luggage with them ---were they the homeless, or just folks trying to dodge a hotel overnight expense—the former, I judge.

        Jaisalmer is located at the western extremity of my routing, not too far from the Pakistan border, reflected in the fact that the town has significant numbers of armed soldiers lounging about and the frequent screech of military jets overhead. This region can be labelled as-semi desert and as the train travelled west there was a marked decrease in vegetation & an increase in the aridity of the land.

            Jaisalmer could be labelled as ‘exotic’--- it is dominated by a 1000 year old medieval fortress. Unlike the fortress in Jodhpur that is a relic/museum, the one in Jaisalmer is a living massive tourist shop,

restaurant and hotel plaza with approx. 4000 people living within the walls of the edifice. Historically, this city

has earned its keep as a key station on the road from central Asia through which the camel traders had to pass. In 1948 with independence and the closing of the border with Pakistan, its fortunes went into decline. Jaisalmer’s important strategic location, resulting in the presence of the Indian military, combined with a booming tourist business, has meant a resurgence in prosperity.
              Viewing the landscape from atop the heights of the ancient fortress, one can see hundreds of power generating windmills reflecting the development of modern forward looking India. 

It's tough work, but someone has to test the beds.......

Of Maharaja's and rickshaw wallahs....

                 The day began at 3.15am to be exact, when I received a dousing in ice cold water from a recalcitrant air- con unit  positioned above my head and which suddenly decided to go into reverse gear and spew its contents over me! Some bedroom re-organisation and no more problem.

The  last Maharaja's Palace......

                   First job today was to round up a reliable auto-rickshaw driver to carry me at 4am tomorrow to  Jodhpur rail station about 3kms from Wem's Guest house. Now the optimum word here is reliable. Offering him 10 times the going rate of $1 for his cooperation and hoping that this is inducement enough to ensure his services. Probably more than he regularly earns for a whole days work.
                   Rickshaw issue (hopefully) settled and and on to see the former Maharajah's local digs. His Excellency, billed at the time of his death in 1947, as one of the 5 richest men in the world. His auto fleets, preserved at his palace includes 10 Rolls Royces. Known as Umaid Bhawan Palace, it was designed by a British architect and took 3000 labourers 15 years to construct, commencing in 1929. This was viewed apparently as a social project for his people, so as to provide employment during the world economic depression. His order, placed in the UK during 1942 for a ship load of custom designed Art Deco furniture, was apparently lost through German U-boat action en route. My thought on reading these interesting facts was whether Winston Churchill was aware that whole ships were being used to ship such trivia in the midst of a world crisis.
                         Umaid Palace was constructed from local marble and with a total absence of concrete. Each stone individually cut to interlock with the next stone laid. Apparently, some times the cut blocks were so heavy that they could not be man- handled into precise position by the labourers. The solution was to lower into approximate location by the cranes onto blocks of ice and be slipped to exact locking position as the ice melted.
                        Point of interest: From the roof-top terrace of my guest house, I watched construction on an

I watched them do this dawn till dusk.

adjoining building. Almost total absence of any on-site mechanical lifting devices---everything hauled up using human muscle power. Bowls of prepared concrete hauled up the stairways and dumped by female labourers carrying loads balanced on their heads. Not pleasant work in 38C temperatures.  Last week India placed a satellite into orbit around Mars. Makes one ponder!!

Above Jodhur at Meyrangar Fortress

         Gently coaxed myself forward through the heritage entry arch of Wem's guest house at 10.30am . My target today is the impressive Meyrangarh fortress built on a 400 foot 'rock mountain" that rears up and dominates Jodhpur. Realising that in this heat it is not advisable toset oneself up for an overly physical regime of sightseeing.  "Bravely' (stupidly?) I committed myself to walk up to the fort entrance via a very narrow, steep and twisty lane which quickly degenerated into long flights of stairs. Paid my $6 entrance fee--expensive for India, my camera fee, my social donation fee and I was free to set myself  loose on the several museums in the fort. Access to the fort is sheer and impregnable and is hailed as one of the most magnificent in India. The fort was constructed in two phases, early 1600's and the early 1800's in response to invaders from the North.After salving my conscience & scanning the exhibits, I climbed up to the battlements for a photo session. The viewing points offered magnificent vistas across the city ---a city that is also famous as being the "Blue City" of India. Apparently, the Brahman caste, the highest caste, traditionally painted their houses all blue in order that they could be easily identified. In these more enlightened times, others of lower castes, caught onto a good idea, so that there are now many buildings painted blue across the city.

Photos duly taken, I treated myself to the auto rickshaw ride back down to street market area around the central clock tower, in the hope of rounding up a cool drink, or three, and acquainting myself with the maze of narrow lanes & passages that constitute the main commercial area.

She's being fattened for Eid. (the goat!).

         Comment. The currency system of India is denominated in rupees. .Approx. 60 to the $US. Very few coins in the system. Paper notes as low as 5 rupees.(10 cents).Small notes are much sought after to make change. It is a constant battle between buyer and seller to manoeuvre the other party to give up his small notes. Offer a rickshaw driver a 100R note for a 70R ride and he will feign that he has no change. ---shafted again! Ditto, transactions in the market and with the street vendors.

Interesting fact: Those of you that ride horses will know about jodphurs,high leather boots that are used to protect the riders legs. The name of these high boots hails from Imperial times in this city of Jodhpur when British officers carried the name back to the UK. Likewise,  the  words gymkana, (a horse show),  bungalow & veranda also derive from that same colonial period, when words were imported back to the UK by returning soldiers.
Picture on right. I mistakenly thought this beautiful goat living in the house was the family pet. Today, I discovered that she is being fattened up for the upcoming Eid festival. Poor goat--she is so friendly & tame.

Riding the rails to Rajasthan.....

           A second leg of the rail journey accomplished--the stage from Ahmadabad northwards to Jodhpur  (pop. 846,000) in Rajasthan. Departed Ahmadabad at 11.20am, arrived Jodhpur at 8.15pm., exactly on time. I did note that India railways operate a single track system in this part of its network--that is, with passing points of twin track at specific points, to permit trains moving in opposite directions, to pass. Should the oncoming train be late, of course delays are incurred by both trains, so as to facilitate a safe passing procedure.

All ready for a siesta....

          This second train travel leg was more relaxed for me and I was able to take more time observing my surroundings. Train travel, like Indian society is highly stratified, with different social groups travelling in different classes of carriage on the train. At a cost to me of about $6 per day unlimited travel, I was able to travel 'top class'. with typically white collar professional types in predominance. My compartment companions hastened to inform me that Dad was a judge and 28 year old son a newly minted lawyer. My AC 2  class has seating for 6 persons---that is three seats lower level and three above, all extended out into full length beds. Bed coverings all supplied at no charge--freshly laundered pillow case sheets and blankets. Yes, blankets, as the compartment in AC2 can get cold---ridiculous when its 36C outside.
                     Friendly to the extreme, I am sure by the end of the journey that I will have a lifetimes supply of  'new best friends'. My fellow passengers are very curious and quickly launch into a barrage of personal questions like--how old is your wife, how much do you earn, what is you e-mail address?? Fun at first, the questioning can tend to become a little intrusive. Since I have arrived in India, 10 days ago, I have only seen perhaps a half dozen westerners--travellers with European features have real curiosity value and invite stares and requests for a 'selfie'. This surprised me as I was expecting places --hotels, train stations, to be much more cosmopolitan.

View from the vestibule....

                  Exploring beyond my compartment, I spent considerable time between stations, standing in the small entry vestibules of the door entry points, located at either ends of  the carriages (referred to as rakes) in India). Indians do not have the same preoccupation with safety as in other places, and so the doors are left wide open and passengers are free to hang out as the train charges along,  frequently traversing high bridges and ravines. Makes for great opportunities for photo opportunities along the exterior of the train as it rounds the curves. Nowadays, with overhead electrification, riding on the roof, in the cheap seats, is no longer a (exhilarating) rail travel option. Anyway,  the vestibule is a  place to meet the locals and helps to while away the long hours in motion.              
                   

A weary wallah....

Food service to passengers on the train is fast and furious with non-stop streams of 'wallahs' offering every sort of food item one could want. Especially enjoy the chai (tea Indian style)  hot --as in temperature, and sweet, made with condensed milk at 20 cents per cup.
                   Over all Indian rail travel, despite aged & deteriorated equipment, is a pleasant surprise, comfortable, relaxing and very sociable.

Traffic mayhem....

                Traffic & roads in India--pure chaos & confusion. First of all the drivers--I am not sure if there is any requirement to take/pass a driving test in India to learn & apply any user code, and if there is, it has been 100% rejected. The streets are jammed with vehicles from large trucks, motorcycles, school buses and myriads of angry three wheel green & yellow auto rickshaws that buzz about emitting clouds of blue smoke. Human muscle powered vehicles, bicycles, handcarts, seem to have largely disappeared from the traffic scene. Common sense indicates that complete grid-lock should prevail, where nothing moves, but miracle of miracles, everyone keeps moving along with non-stop assistance from every driver in terms of continuous heavy non-stop application of horns.
                 Traffic users drive absolutely where ever they wish---wrong direction up a one-way street--no problem. Wrong side of a dual carriage way system--just go for it. Over the sidewalk--don't worry the pedestrians will jump out of the way! Add to the road madness, the wandering cows and you have the picture.
              The idea is that every one knows the de facto road rules. Keep going until you get blocked and yield when someone else blocks you. It's a game of inches. And its not just male driver aggression, the Indian lady scooter riders are any ones match in the hard ball game of traffic survival.

Busy streets...

               An attempt has been made to install traffic light sanity at some major intersections so as to control traffic flows. The red lights are totally ignored, as vehicles from all directions surge forward to assert their priority right of way. Traffic police loiter at key intersection, totally ignoring the mayhem right in front of them--I am told that employment as a traffic cop is a guaranteed job for life-- so why work when the opportunities for bribes are so plentiful? Already, during just this first week in India I have perhaps ridden 20+ auto rickshaws and have to report that I've not seem a single collision, or scrape, occurring as we have charged along, your humble scribe hanging on for dear life. Drivers actually smile at each other and and share banter as they inch forward. Yes, Indian city traffic chaos shouldn't work---but it does!

Gandhi Ashram by the river...

              The first place on my list to visit in Ahmenabad had to be the riverside Gandhi (Sabarmati) Ashram with whom it is synonymous. Richard Attenborough's epic movie "Gandhi", made the Ashram seem quite familiar to this visitor:  Just last week, the President of China was in India for the first time for decades

Gandhi's Ashram 1917-30.

and his itinerary included the Gandhi Ashram. Gandhi based himself at the Ashram during the period 1917-1930. It's location, it is said, is midway between the city jail and the main cemetery --- he felt that he would end up in one or the other sooner or later! Luckily, I chose a quiet business day for my visit and was able to enjoy the artifacts and rooms in  relative peace. Particularly poignant was his spinning wheel and pillow  in position on the floor and against the wall, where he worked planning his strategies that eventually led to the  achievement of Indian independence. Very clear was the Christ-like reverence that ordinary Indians hold Gandhi's memory. My auto rickshaw drivers both directions of the trip, tried to recount (in their very broken English), parables from Gandhi's life. Recent memories of having seen Richard

Musical interlude at the Ashram

authenticity, on site. My visit was made most pleasant and worthwhile photographically, by a group of beautiful 10-15 year girls attired in colourful saris who performed graceful and delicate dance formation manoeuvres to traditional music.Totally worth the 50 cent admission fee!

              It seems a tradition for me, that when I embark on my long journeys, I contract a rotten heavy chest cold & cough. In this case, perhaps I can put it down to the continual switching from icy cold air- conditioned hotel  rooms and the very hot, humid weather outside.
                  My second port of call, and billed by Lonely Planet as a refuge from the bedlam of the streets, was Kankaria Lake...a large lake originally built in 1450, and recently 'dandified' to offer a wide concrete walk with dozens of food locations offering all kinds of temptations. Again, not to busy today (midweek). Of note were the young couples, obviously demurely enjoying time together, away from prying families, in a conservative society where male/female relationships are highly structured.

              Noticed that there are a lot more holy cows wandering around Ahmedabad than there were in Mumbai---also, in the smaller city the cows are free to wander as they wish, unlike having to be tethered as in Mumbai. Observed several occasions complete traffic gridlock as several cows chose to stand motionless, effectively closing the street, despite being honked at by a thousand horns.
Much more to say about roads and driving a la India in up-coming posts.
         

India train travel baptism....

         Now my real journey in India commences.

Few seats--use the floor....

My train (#12480 to be exact), from Mumbai’s creaky  Bandra Terminus  was scheduled for a 13.15 departure. The train, powered from overhead electric wires, rolled into Bandra exactly one hour earlier to discharge its arriving passengers and permit grooming operations for the out bound crowd.. Comfortably ensconced on soft bales of clothing stacked for collection in piles on the platform, I watched with interest, the comings and goings -- all the teary goodbyes from Indian families on the move.

          The task to locate the carriage (or ‘rake’) as they are called in India, I can see is going to be non-ending until I understand the principles they use. My carriage & seat location, per the computerised ticket control was HA1 and people kept telling me that HA1(sounds like an infectious disease!) would roll in exactly opposite a predetermined position on the platform—problem was no-one could exactly explain where precisely the predetermined position was. Solution achieved this time, when a porter wallah eventually guided me to the correct platform location. Sure enough, HA1was right there where it should be, complete with a

Bandra--Mumbai's second main station

computerised passenger list pasted to the entrance door way informing all of my name, age, gender, passport number etc. Finding ones seat may seem a trifling issue, but Indian trains are very long, very crowded and do not have connecting passageways between carriages for the lower classes and the posh types who travel in air-con first and second. To board the train in the wrong position, could mean that one is stuck on wooden seats in the wrong class, even standing, for many hours.

                     Rail station platforms in India are well supplied with booths selling every type of food for the journey and throughout the 9 hours to my destination in Ahmedabad, we had a constant stream of wallahs passing down the train offering everything from hot tea, sandwiches, cookies, nuts, to ice creams. Each arrival of a fresh offering accompanied with a singy-song wallah repetition of the item offered.

              My train arrived in Ahmenabad exactly on time at 21.15 and after a spirited negotiation of the auto rickshaw fare, arrived at my Hotel Accolade 8 kms away across the large river that segments the city.

Getting to know the back streets of Mumbai....

               Leisurely start to the day---8.30am breakfast in bed!! No point in rushing---let the early morning rush hour volume ease off a little. My target today--thank you 'Lonely Planet' was the Kotachiwadi (wadi meaning hamlet).This is a small Christian enclave, surrounded by  predominant Hindi and Muslim neighbour-hoods. Noted several Christian shrines and St. Teresa's church--notable for its fresh paint and general heir of high maintenance in contrast to much of Mumbai. Vehicular traffic is not allowed in Kotachiwadi's narrow streets of formerly elegant, now relatively dilapidated wooden two storey homes, although noisy motor scooters seem to use the area as a shortcut.
                 Temperatures are higher today and the sun is quite fierce, so the pace of sight seeing is slow. It seems that one consumes bottled water by the litre without need of conveniences.

UNESCO rated ---Mumbai 's ornate main railway station.

              Today my mind has been moving into rail transportation mode, as tomorrow I officially commence my long rail journey around India.---Mumbai to Ahmadabad, first leg---about 8 hours travel time. Not totally sure of the standard of food service offered by India Railways, I bought packets of dry biscuits. apples and other fruit. I also took a recce to the main Mumbai rail station--Victoria Terminus. The outside of the building is 1860's colonial high ornate, looks like a European cathedral and is a listed UNESCO monument. I watched the trains roll into position and board their long distance passengers. As I had been pre-advised, the trains seem to be hundreds of metres long and the trick is to locate the correct carriage andspecific berth therein. Passenger waggons all look as if they were built in the 50's and put in 5 million miles plus! The names, gender & ages of all passengers are listed on computer run-offs pasted to the relevant carriages, along with a personal code (known as a PNR) for all individual passengers. Obviously, concern for privacy regulations has not yet overtaken Indian Railways. All quite intimidating, but I am sure that I shall master the complexities of Indian rail travel in due course.

Ferry to Elephanta Island...

                 Sunday in the city and early riser that I am, quickly sensed that at 6.30am the noise and bedlam level of the traffic was somewhat less than usual. Even the taxi drivers deserve one day a week to be tardy. Breakfast (omelet,  three slices of toast with coffee), served on a tray delivered to my hotel room.quickly

consumed,  I grabbed a taxi to the Archway to India ferry boat location..
                 Skies clear and sea calm, it took about an hour for our elderly ferry to cover the 9 kms out to Elephanta Island. So called, as an early Portuguese explorer felt the Island resembled a pachyderm lying on its side. Our ferry passed close to Indian Navy installations and oil tanker discharge points. Upon arrival & temperatures rising, I followed my fellow tourists along a half kilometre causeway to the island proper, where upto the  seven caves and the tacky tourist stores commence, with the usual strong-arm selling techniques applied aggressively to this mixture of locals plus Chinese, US and European tourists.The tariff for admission to the UNESCO recognised cave site was 50 cents Indian, ten times more, $5.00, for foreign tourists. Apparently this10 to 1 entry price rule is the norm in India at cultural & religious sites. Fair or not, I won't judge. Witnessed my first overt act of corruption at the ticket booth. The rule is to hand back to the visitor part of the cancelled ticket--nothing was handed to me, so I asked--the visitor portion from another ticket was torn from another already cancelled ticket, so presumable my ticket could be returned at the end of the shift, as unsold and my $5 pocketed. Not bad if you can do this a 100 times a shift!

Polite monkeys.....

the steps
                     I duly climbed the steps and entered the caves duly photographing the rock carvings. my Google "Elephanta Island" for the full historical blurb. Warning everywhere alerted about the poorly behaved monkeys that inhabit the island. All that I saw were the very epitome of politeness to us tourists.               .

One of seven caves.

readers will quickly gather that I am not strong on the details of ancient ruins--if interested to learn more, I suggest to my readers that they
              Early to arrive, and after tea and a sandwich, boarded an early ferry back to the mainland. Just as well, as the lineups that I passed for outward tourists were now extensive. Never must I forget that this is a country of nearly a billion souls. Back to the hotel for a relaxing shower, some laundry and a siesta---not in that order.

Human powered washing machine.....

             An early start to the day brought me to a miracle of organization.--- the Mahalaxmi Dhobi Ghat. Chances are that if you have had your washing contracted out in Mumbai, as many tens of thousand do in the city, that it has been picked up & transported to this dhobi ghat (meaning--washing place).

Washing time at the Mahalaxami dohbi ghat

                 Established for over 140 years, this human powered laundry machine is a hive of activity with clothes being rubbed, scrubbed and beaten clean.in over1000 troughs. I am informed that each and every clothes item is retrieved from the process, spun dry and returned neatly packaged to its correct owner.
                 Today is Mumbai hotel change day for me today---third since arriving and hopefully situated in a worthwhile area on the east side of the peninsula., so just past noon  I piled into another taxi and proceeded to the Elphinstone. Located in a rather non-descript area right next to an Indian military base that I mistook for a prison, with its high walls and barbed wire. Rather taken back at the slummy external appearance,

Elphinstone Hotel, Mumbai

crowds of men with apparently not much to do, my accommodation was accessed up a couple of flights of dirty & dark stairs---not as depicted on the internet booking site. However, things improved with the reception area and actual rooms are bright, clean and well appointed.

Let tourism commence...

It's beginning to click now---that is, my brain is gradually starting to catch up with my legs--jet lag is subsiding. Determined, despite threatening skies to do some serious Mumbai site-seeing this morning. Feeling particularly optimistic about the world after having seen the results of the strong 'No' vote victory in Scotland. Availed myself of one of the literally thousands of cruising taxi cabs in this part of the city & for just 100R/$2 I am transported, clutching my trusty 2 inch thick Lonely Planet guide, to the iconic city landmark---known appropriately as "Gateway to India.. Built  to mark the King George V/Queen Mary tour of India in 1922 and  to celebrate everything imperial, it also marked the monument through which the departing British army marched to awaiting ships, just 26 years later, as India gained her independance. Like so much in this city, the  Gateway arch seems to be in semi poor repair,

Selfie of geeky tourist and pigeons at the 'Gateway to India'.

crumbling under layers of mould and moss. I have been surprised to observe so very little new construction activity across the whole city. The reality does not seem to match up to all the pre-visit internet pictures and boosterish material that I consumed. Mumbai seems tired, worn-out and in need of massive repair and renovation. The preponderance of pretentious and dated colonial edifices seems to me, to only add to the feeling that Asia's recent explosive changes have by-passed this metropolis.
                     Not feeling very creative in the 35 degree heat & torpid humidity, I was glad to follow the suggested Lonely Planet walking tour suggestions. At least it kept me from becoming immediately disorientated in the maze of crowded side streets off the major avenues. Upon return to the Gateway starting point and time for lunch time sustenance, I hit the crowded adjacent narrow streets to meet the holy cows, tiffin delivery wallahs and all the sites and sounds of street life. With some trepidation,

Holy cows roped to a fence.....

I dived into street food action. Very tasty actually and amused my fellow diners by beseeching the "chef" to go lightly with the hot spicy sauce. The food served up piping hot on squares of newspaper,  is consumed with the fingers. A bucket of murky water is offered to rinse-off when completed. Just hoping that the high cooking temperatures and volume of the fast cooking service has effectively killed off any potential bacteria.
       Later: about 6.00pm.head out to find some dinner. Have decided to follow the guide book's advice and make my way to the Crawford Market area. A web of streets, a slow 15 min. cab ride from my digs at the Bentley Hotel on west side Marine Drive. Out of the cab and into sheer bedlam. A full head splitting 5000 decibels noisier than the usual cacophony that seems to be India. Some kind of religious street festival, complete with loud drums and dancing, whirling youths---no girls! All involved seemed to be building themselves up into somekind of

Crawford night market.

estatic, trance-like spiritual semi oblivion. Crowds of shoppers, holy cows, stray dogs & cats seemed to ignore them. An hour of this intensity and I was almost exhausted, but not before finding a sandwich stall offering a tasty hot meal for less than $1 washed down with a couple of cans of sweetened milk plus rice seeds added.
      By 8.30, back to my hotel room and tranquility, cold shower and some laundry work.

Learning the ropes....

                  Struggling with my jet lag the main task today was limited to relocating from my first night Mumbai airport area hotel, to the second of three hotels down at the south of the peninsula on so called 'ritzy' Marine Drive opposite the ocean. My illusions that this would be a simple 20 minute drive in an auto-rickshaw were soon dashed. Through chaotic, jammed and ear splittingly noisy, pot holed streets we struggled for 45 minutes at walking pace, or not much more, to a connecting railway station. Long lines to buy my 20 cent ticket and a fight to actually board the train after having determined with some difficulty the correct platform.. Not easy when half the passengers are hanging out of windows and doors. Despite the sardine like conditions and choking heat, everyone seems friendly, helpful & good natured about it all. Lots of help is offered if one enquires as to travel directions platform  number, entrance location for example. Travel congestion, crowds  noise and heat seems to be the facts of life that everyone seems to accept quite stoically here in . It remains to be seen if other cities on my itinerary function similarly. Anyway, even if my 20 minute journey did take 2 1/2 hours, it was a gentle baptism into the Indian rail travel challenges that I will surely confront in the next 90 days.

View from the co-pilots seat...

                       Somewhat surprised that Mumbai is a lot more run down than I had imagined. It was my expectation that the recent string of years of strong economic growth would have 'lifted all boats' so that the general appearance of property and infrastructure would appear to be be in better condition and appearance. I look forward to discussing this with educated  business type Indians that I may meet on trains  etc.

The start of a heavy two hour downpour...

     Weather today: a hot & humid 30C, overcast, with a major monsoonal down pour that lasted about 2 hours between 4 & 6pm.--lucky to have ducked that one, as it was my jet- lag recuperation siesta time!  

First full day in Mumbai........

17 September.

          Within just a couple of hours of completing the second leg of the long Toronto to Mumbai route  it is 5.00 o’clock, & not sure if that is morning or evening,! Flight #1 to Brussels on Indian owned Jet Airways was packed solid and although I drew a central isle “land-locked” seat was lucky in having an interesting young man as my travel companion,  yet another non-practising lawyer, now gainfully employed installing high end kitchen furniture and on his way to a Hanover trade show. Never realised before that this is yet another sector that German manufacturers dominate across most of the world.

Enroute at 35,000ft over Saudi Arabia...

              Flight #2 from Brussels again necessitated the now mandatory slow-moving 45 minute line-ups to clear security. As Brussels is the European hub for Jet Airways, much of my airport pod consisted of Indian travellers ---- fascinating to watch the portly & sometimes out-raged sari clad grannies, being patted down for whatever. Uneventful flight, with only about a 50% load factor. Watching the route map unfold on the plane’s monitor system, I noted that our route took us well south of the Ukraine.
         Presented with Indian Customs forms that indicate that one can only import 10,000 rupees ($200),whereas I am carrying 40,000R. Don’t intend to declare the illegal excess and risk seizure--- will stuff the excess down a sock and hope for the best!.

18 September 2014.

              Happy to report that I am not residing tonight in money smugglers prison. Anti climactically, I breezed through the Mumbai airport immigration process with nary a query directed at me. Beautiful customs hall with lots of seated sleepy looking security people watching as the hordes passed by. Eventually I located

Sleeping dogs everywhere....

the auto-rickshaw (also known as tuk tuks in Thailand) line obscurely located in parking garage level 6B. Haggled with drivers #1 & 2 in the queue and settled on driver #3 at half the original asking price. Challenge was that he was walled in –no problemo in Mumbai---he called over several of his driver buddies and they lifted the vehicle wholesale and re-located it out on the road way proper!

                 With some difficulty, we located in a maze of pot hole filled, pitch black streets the target Hotel Royal Park. Clean room with efficient air-con. No toilet paper or soap---brought my own anyway—too late (midnight plus) to chase around with the wallahs at the reception desk. At $72 this is the most expensive hotel I shall be staying in. I pre-booked and paid extra for a (near) airport location --- strange cities and long rides in darkened streets are stressful after 20 hour flights.