Explosive Bombay

We arrived in Mumbai in the mid-afternoon, well rested, but hungry as only a few wallahs with odd meals had been served on the train. Though I did have a very tasty plate of vegetables and fruit...I felt a little bad because I ate it all, saving none for Casi (my reasoning, if ever he reads this, was simply my hunger and the fact that he was gone for so long - inexcusable).

Christine, part of the community of couch surfers (online profiles show your languages, interests and most importantly where you live, travelers then contact you to host them or simply to have a coffee in an alien place - what do you get in return? To stay at people's houses when you're traveling. It's a good way to save money and meet people/locals) met a French girl at the station. She told us a bit about Mumbai, helped us get on our way. Though I was sometimes unimpressed with her lack of knowledge about Mumbai, she was brave trooper, who interestingly was working for the manufacturing branch of a French company in India, learning Hindi, as part of a government programme.

We tried to find the tourist office at the train station...it was closed for Diwali...all tickets counters were closed. I had no ticket to leave Mumbai for Goa, so we spent a stressful few hours figuring out that everything was closed. All the while, we are being hassled by taxi drivers. My irritation level was getting close to boiling over into an 11 out of 10.

We gave up and made our way to the hotel that I had booked a few weeks in advance. Luckily they were able to upgrade us to a twin room and for two nights, though relatively pricey. The room however was a big step down from Udaipur. A small third floor room that resembled a basement apartment that would be best put to use by an Austrian pedophile, lit by one flickering neon light, and a fan, that must have once been used in a 1920's L'Oreal advert, hung precariously from one wall. If I stretched out my arms I could touch both ends of the room and also would need to duck my head down to avoid hitting the ceiling. It was grim.

We ate a mid-afternoon dinner at a small Muslim owned canteen next door. Regardless of its hectic staff, simple bench/table combos and clinical decor but questionably hygienic feel, the food was excellent. After a eating there few times, Casi and I realised that all the meals were the same basic curry with only a slight variation...add a fried egg, cheese, coriander, etc...

We headed down to Colaba, the trendy Southern tip of Mumbai, to meet the girls and other couch surfers. Loads of French people turned up, Casi and Christine for a short while were the only non-French there - a chance for them to get a little closer. Gautmik, the brother of a former work colleague of mine, joined us there. The most immediately interesting thing about him, his brother and family, is their lack of surname like Cher, Bono or Prince, except superstar fame is replaced by excessive intellectual ability.

After heading to a boring and overpriced expat style restaurant (I didn't come to India to have American food) and some confusion over where and when the fireworks would be, we headed to the bay front to watch a Baghdad style light show.

Seconds after stepping out of the car, a rocket flew through some nearby bushes and straight passed us before exploding on the other side of the car park. I looked at Casi slowly and with wide eyes; he laughed uncontrollably. Bombay was living up to its name.

All along the bay, people were setting off fireworks, flying in all directions, including some that wouldn't leave the ground creating a semi-sphere of red/white/green light, eardrum bursting sound and a crater of destruction.   One was set off a few metres from us, I heard the wick fizzle and disappear into the cylinder, a puff of smoke came out....but no rocket - it had failed to launch. Fearing for my life at worst and my eyebrows at best, I dived down covering my head ... the others laughed. Closer to us, all sorts of fireworks and gunshot like bangs were going off, eventually I became used to it. Fire fountains and balls were going off less than a few metres way...set off by kids with sparklers. It was incredible to see it from so close, a great experience that I'm not sure I would repeat, but I would definitely advise doing once.

Casi was busy charming Christine. Gautmik and I were convinced she was interested, despite her having a boyfriend back home - the constant smiling, head tilting, touching her hair - they're what we call in the industry indicators of interests. Despite Gautmik's numerous subtle hints to go back to his house and my prodding, shaking and shouting, Casi was too in the game to take in any exterior stimuli.

Eventually it was time to roll out. The others wanted to eat, so we headed to a restaurant surprisingly and conveniently close to our hotel. Gautmik and I headed in to the hotel, where he spoke with the receptionist to cancel our second night there, so we could stay with him. Gautmik was a continuously generous host; this was just the first of many miracles he would perform.

Once we knew that we were staying there the Friday, but no longer the Saturday, Gautmik could go home. I felt quite relieved as I had worried that Casi's *****footing around and the group's flakeyness meant he was withheld from returning to his apartment, even though he had work the next day.

The restaurant they had chosen was severely overprice, so my stubbornness lead me to the cheap Muslim canteen next door to eat similar, if not better food, at a third of the price; I also had 5 minutes of well needed peace.

Finally we got to bed around 1:00 after an awkward goodbye kiss that would fuel Casi's ego and relieve his surprising, but soon apparent insecurities. Brother, if you're gonna talk the talk, walk the walk!

The next day began with some sightseeing and failed attempts to buy tickets to Goa. I eventually found a bus ticket which, as per usual, was slightly overpriced. We met up with the girls to wonder around Chor Bazaar in the afternoon. I've eaten at the restaurant of the same name in Mayfair a few times, so was interested to see the real Thieves' Market. As you would expect, it has some of the usual junk any Indian market has, but also has streets of shops with an incredibly eclectic mix of decorations, ornaments and electronic paraphernalia from varying origins.

Gautmik met us at the train station for an evening in the Bombay suburbs. His friends joined us at his 13th floor flat overlooking the Western end of the suburbs, out to sea. They were incredibly well educated and spoke English excellently. Casi was surprised just how much he had in common with them...for example, one had been to Oktoberfest and traveled around Europe with plenty of drinking stories to tell. I wasn't so surprised. India's population is as diverse as the population of the entire European continent, I would expect to find some barbarian bottom feeders, but also well-educated, technologically up to date and well opinionated high fliers (especially because I know some back in the UK).

They took us to their favourite local restaurant where we ate an incredible amount of food. All of these kids had solid frames and I can't blame them, as I imagine I will too by the time I leave on the 20th. The banter between these boys had an incredible energy. If seen from afar you would have thought a fight was constantly erupting, but it was just good ol' fashioned tom foolery - all in Hindi of course, so Casi and I stood there dazed and confused. The night eventually pittered out and we headed to bed.

On Sunday, Gautmik, having already paid for our dinner and drinks, treated us the breakfast of kings...Lassis , Bhajis, Mango juices, the works. Luckily Casi managed to intervene before Gautmik paid again, his generosity was overwhelming. Fully loaded and barely awake, he took us to film city in the hope of catching a Bollywood movie or tv show in the making. Unfortunately, the Diwali weekend put a stop to that; nothing was being filmed. We did a quick, but comprehensive tour of the city before being dropped off in town. I can't thank Gautmik enough for his hospitality - it was amazing.

Casi and I hung around for a short while before going our separate ways. A bromantically emotional goodbye later, he was off to Hyderabad for his dissertation, and I to Goa by bus....