She's 18, she has only travelled to Ireland (outside of Canada and the US), and she chose India as the destination for her first trip to a third world country... brave girl! I can tell already that Blaire will be a swell travel companion :)
I'm going to try keeping this brief (you don't believe me, I know... I don't even believe myself) because, as swell as she is, Blaire did not cooperate in spending the day sleeping off jet lag. We've been out and about since 7:45am, after hitting the sack at 2. I'm totally zonked! It's now quarter to nine, and I want to be in bed very soon.
After leaving internet after yesterday's long post, I walked along the waterfront and saw the Gateway of India and the luxurious Taj Hotel, one of the 2008 bomb attack targets (Leopold's was another). Then walked around a little more, stopped for a delicious carrot-beetroot juice at a roadside stand (more thirsty than hungry in the heat...), checked Blaire's flight status: 45min early :) and booked my ride to the airport from the guy at the front desk of my hostel. Back out into the streets as it got dark, and that's when I found out that Mumbai is a night city. The streets are crammed full of people from all walks of life, and that's when the street kids and beggars come out. There are already quite a few during the day, but not nearly as many as at night. And the night ones aren't as calm as the day ones. A woman about my age held onto my shoulder, following me for a few blocks before finally sighing, rolling her eyes, and giving up; an old woman sitting on the ground grabbed and tugged on my shoulder bag; and small children pointed pleadingly at chocolate bars from the roadside stall as I paid for a bottle of water. As heart-wrenching as this all is, and as much as I wish I could help, the way to do so is not by contributing to the twisted, corrupt beggar industry of Mumbai. So I kindly tell them no when they approach, becoming stern at times when they persist. As fascinating as the night-life is, my love affair is more with Bombay by day. Back to India Guest House at 10:30pm to catch my ride to the airport.
The reserved black and yellow Fiat - staple Indian ride - was waiting for me downstairs. Hostel guy had come down to make sure I got into the right one, and opened the front door for me. I hesitated momentarily - do I really want to ride shotgun through the crazy streets of the city? - but, what the heck. Prateek (astrologer #1 from Rishikesh) told me it wasn't my time to die anytime soon, so really, what did I have to lose? I hopped in, greeted the driver in Hindi and peered over my left shoulder, hoping - but not at all expecting - to find a seatbelt. Negative. I shrugged and settled in for a beautifully hectic ride to the airport in the company of Anwar. We chatted about Mumbai, traffic, car models, cops, snow, Junu, jobs, and more. I used a little a Hindi; he used pretty decent English. We neared the airport a little over an hour later, at which point he told me there were now problems with the cops not letting the city cabs wait by the arrivals (only the airport cabs could be there). He said he'd drop me as close as he could (5-minute walk), but that as he waited for my return with Blaire, he'd have to go back to the gas station he pointed out earlier - 15 minute walk from arrival area. Ohhh boy. This was going to be quite the introduction for poor Blaire! I waited at the very nice, modern, outdoor arrival area for over an hour, and finally, at about 12:30, spotted Blaire across the square, walked over to her and gave her a nice big welcome hug (was supposed to also give her one from my dad and her dad, but in the moment, I forgot... tomorrow, promise!). I asked about her flight, then told her about the not-so-scenic walk we had ahead of us and offered to grab a bag, but she had packed so incredibly light (good job!) that she didn't need the help. I walked her in about 7 different directions before finally heading the way I thought Anwar and I had come. We walked for a good ten minutes down a busy road leaving the airport, some stretches with sidewalks, some without, while cab after cab, and tuk-tuk after tuk-tuk, slowed down beside us, offering rides, surely thinking, "Where do these two girls think they're going on foot away from the airport in the middle of the night??" After warding off dozens of them, some more persistent than others, to my (and surely Blaire's) huge relief, I saw the dim Indian Oil sign up ahead. Anwar waved as we approached, and moments later we were settled into the back seat, starting to catch up on the last 8 years of our lives.
Back at India Guest House, we walked up the 3 flights of stairs and knocked on the padlocked entrance door. First, a towel-wrapped western man peered out from the barred window, wondering what we wanted (wasn't it pretty obvious?), then proceeded to tell us he didn't have the key. Seriously?? Was I really going to have to tell Blaire that we were sleeping in the staircase after taking her on a sketchy, dark airport walk? Surely, she was already planning her flight home in the morning. But luckily, moments later, the desk guy's smiling face appeared through the window and he unlocked the door to let us in. Ouf. Close one. He immediately asked Blaire for her passport, which she handed to him, but in his groggy, sleepy state didn't want to do the paper work right away, so told her to come back and pick it up in the morning. "Huh?" She clearly - and understandably - was not overjoyed by this idea, but I told her she could trust him and showed her to our room. (I suppose I could have told the guy we would bring it back in the morning, but I wasn't in the mood to argue... not that it would even have lead to arguing... oh well. Yes, she got her passport back this morning.)
(Sorry, Jim - and Kim, if you're reading too. I probably gave you a mild heart attack with all that!)
We got shushed several times as we kept chatting away, forgetting how late it was and that lots of people were sleeping. The wall partitions between each room do not reach the ceiling, so voices and light travel far. After more shushing and a couple knocks on the door asking us to reduce the light (how, without a dimmer, I don't know), we finally called it a day/night and closed up shop at 2am.
As mentioned earlier, we were up just a few hours later, and we just spent a great first day together - which I was planning to include in tonight's post, but I'm trying to keep my promise, it's 9:45 and my eyes are giving out on me, so it's time to head back to my room. (Blaire was here for a bit, but went back, also exhausted, about an hour ago. Time for me to follow.)
Hoping for a deep, long sleep...
(That wasn't too long, was it?)
I'm going to try keeping this brief (you don't believe me, I know... I don't even believe myself) because, as swell as she is, Blaire did not cooperate in spending the day sleeping off jet lag. We've been out and about since 7:45am, after hitting the sack at 2. I'm totally zonked! It's now quarter to nine, and I want to be in bed very soon.
After leaving internet after yesterday's long post, I walked along the waterfront and saw the Gateway of India and the luxurious Taj Hotel, one of the 2008 bomb attack targets (Leopold's was another). Then walked around a little more, stopped for a delicious carrot-beetroot juice at a roadside stand (more thirsty than hungry in the heat...), checked Blaire's flight status: 45min early :) and booked my ride to the airport from the guy at the front desk of my hostel. Back out into the streets as it got dark, and that's when I found out that Mumbai is a night city. The streets are crammed full of people from all walks of life, and that's when the street kids and beggars come out. There are already quite a few during the day, but not nearly as many as at night. And the night ones aren't as calm as the day ones. A woman about my age held onto my shoulder, following me for a few blocks before finally sighing, rolling her eyes, and giving up; an old woman sitting on the ground grabbed and tugged on my shoulder bag; and small children pointed pleadingly at chocolate bars from the roadside stall as I paid for a bottle of water. As heart-wrenching as this all is, and as much as I wish I could help, the way to do so is not by contributing to the twisted, corrupt beggar industry of Mumbai. So I kindly tell them no when they approach, becoming stern at times when they persist. As fascinating as the night-life is, my love affair is more with Bombay by day. Back to India Guest House at 10:30pm to catch my ride to the airport.
The reserved black and yellow Fiat - staple Indian ride - was waiting for me downstairs. Hostel guy had come down to make sure I got into the right one, and opened the front door for me. I hesitated momentarily - do I really want to ride shotgun through the crazy streets of the city? - but, what the heck. Prateek (astrologer #1 from Rishikesh) told me it wasn't my time to die anytime soon, so really, what did I have to lose? I hopped in, greeted the driver in Hindi and peered over my left shoulder, hoping - but not at all expecting - to find a seatbelt. Negative. I shrugged and settled in for a beautifully hectic ride to the airport in the company of Anwar. We chatted about Mumbai, traffic, car models, cops, snow, Junu, jobs, and more. I used a little a Hindi; he used pretty decent English. We neared the airport a little over an hour later, at which point he told me there were now problems with the cops not letting the city cabs wait by the arrivals (only the airport cabs could be there). He said he'd drop me as close as he could (5-minute walk), but that as he waited for my return with Blaire, he'd have to go back to the gas station he pointed out earlier - 15 minute walk from arrival area. Ohhh boy. This was going to be quite the introduction for poor Blaire! I waited at the very nice, modern, outdoor arrival area for over an hour, and finally, at about 12:30, spotted Blaire across the square, walked over to her and gave her a nice big welcome hug (was supposed to also give her one from my dad and her dad, but in the moment, I forgot... tomorrow, promise!). I asked about her flight, then told her about the not-so-scenic walk we had ahead of us and offered to grab a bag, but she had packed so incredibly light (good job!) that she didn't need the help. I walked her in about 7 different directions before finally heading the way I thought Anwar and I had come. We walked for a good ten minutes down a busy road leaving the airport, some stretches with sidewalks, some without, while cab after cab, and tuk-tuk after tuk-tuk, slowed down beside us, offering rides, surely thinking, "Where do these two girls think they're going on foot away from the airport in the middle of the night??" After warding off dozens of them, some more persistent than others, to my (and surely Blaire's) huge relief, I saw the dim Indian Oil sign up ahead. Anwar waved as we approached, and moments later we were settled into the back seat, starting to catch up on the last 8 years of our lives.
Back at India Guest House, we walked up the 3 flights of stairs and knocked on the padlocked entrance door. First, a towel-wrapped western man peered out from the barred window, wondering what we wanted (wasn't it pretty obvious?), then proceeded to tell us he didn't have the key. Seriously?? Was I really going to have to tell Blaire that we were sleeping in the staircase after taking her on a sketchy, dark airport walk? Surely, she was already planning her flight home in the morning. But luckily, moments later, the desk guy's smiling face appeared through the window and he unlocked the door to let us in. Ouf. Close one. He immediately asked Blaire for her passport, which she handed to him, but in his groggy, sleepy state didn't want to do the paper work right away, so told her to come back and pick it up in the morning. "Huh?" She clearly - and understandably - was not overjoyed by this idea, but I told her she could trust him and showed her to our room. (I suppose I could have told the guy we would bring it back in the morning, but I wasn't in the mood to argue... not that it would even have lead to arguing... oh well. Yes, she got her passport back this morning.)
(Sorry, Jim - and Kim, if you're reading too. I probably gave you a mild heart attack with all that!)
We got shushed several times as we kept chatting away, forgetting how late it was and that lots of people were sleeping. The wall partitions between each room do not reach the ceiling, so voices and light travel far. After more shushing and a couple knocks on the door asking us to reduce the light (how, without a dimmer, I don't know), we finally called it a day/night and closed up shop at 2am.
As mentioned earlier, we were up just a few hours later, and we just spent a great first day together - which I was planning to include in tonight's post, but I'm trying to keep my promise, it's 9:45 and my eyes are giving out on me, so it's time to head back to my room. (Blaire was here for a bit, but went back, also exhausted, about an hour ago. Time for me to follow.)
Hoping for a deep, long sleep...
(That wasn't too long, was it?)
Well, a little long. But that's okay as it was pretty interesting. I've never left my passport with anyone, ever. Did Blaire get it back?
ReplyDeleteYup, I knew she would! They do things a little differently in India ;)
ReplyDeleteHave a great March break!