Westward ho! - Mumbai, India
Mumbai, India
Where I stayed
Hotel Bentley Marine Drive
Today we travel west, well southwest to be exact. It's the same train number that brought us here from Varanasi...that is the one which was over five hours late. Last night our hotel owner called the enquiry line to find out what time the train left and has been told it's running two hours late. But you can't always trust them, he tells me, so best to go to the station without your luggage in the morning to check. The station is just a five minute walk from our hotel. Our train is scheduled to arrive at 6.38am so we are ready by 6.15am and pick our way up the street in the dark. There seems to be no-one to ask so we make our way over to the platform. Here an illuminated sign informs us that our train will arrive at 8.18am. We return to the hotel where the scheduled power cut has been enforced during our absence. Our room is now like a sauna so we sit in reception which is cooler. Our manager suggests we leave at 7am with our luggage since all timings given at the station are approximate.
At the railway station we manage to find a seat but as the sun starts to rise it's getting pretty hot. Several trains pull in and leave and we spot a chance to shift to a seat in the shade. I move with lightening speed to 'bag the place' and Ian shifts the luggage. Never mind, only half an hour now. The illuminated sign is still flicking over listing all the scheduled trains with times and platform numbers in alternating Hindi and English. Hang on a minute...is it my eyesight or does that now say 10.20am beside our train number? Ian heads off to investigate and sure enough, just when we thought the end was in sight, our train is now a further two hours late! How did a train become an extra two hours late in the space of five minutes? This is worse than British Rail.
Whilst we wait a group of school children gather around us. It starts off with one brave youngster and grows steadily as the others find out that we don't bite. They want to practice their English, most especially with Ian. What is his name? How old is he? Where does he come from? Where is he going? Mumbai, Ian answers the final question. Ah, Mumbai, three and three quarters. I hope they are not saying what I think they are saying? That our train will be another three and three quarter hours? Or worse still that it's not expected till 3.45pm? A young man sitting on the bench next to me is going to Mumbai on the same train. It will be 10.30am, he declares confidently. We wait. By 10.30am there is not only no sight of our train but it has disappeared off the information board all together. Passenger and cargo trains come and go...and to cut a long story short, our train finally rolls in at 11.45am. Five hours late. Well I suppose they are, at least, consistent. Needless to say, Ian and I are now getting a bit hacked off with the Indian train system.
We board our train and complete the usual obstacle course of shoes and kids to reach our berth. We're glad to see it hasn't been double booked (it has been known). We collect clean sheets from the carriage boy and once beds are made and I climb up onto my bunk I start to feel better as the air con does it's job. And now we have a jolly ticket inspector checking we are in the right place and seeming to want a nice chat. Where are we from? England. How do we like India? Very much (probably best to be diplomatic). Are we here for tourism? Yes. How do we like Indian Railways? Well, what can we say? Your railways are very nice I say...BUT...this train is very late! Loud laughter from the Indians all around me. FIVE hours late...and also FIVE hours late three days ago. Indians now in fits and Ian trying to hide under his bed sheets. Well madam that is true, says our man smilingly. But you see, this line is very old and built by the British. Oh, so it's our fault it's late then? Exactly madam, exactly. More mirth from our Indian friends around us. The rest of our journey is slow, slow, slow. We have lost another hour by the time we reach the next station. We just hope that our hotel will not have locked up and gone to bed by the time we reach Mumbai!
Finally we arrive in Mumbai at 7.30pm, hot and weary. It's very sticky here. We find the pre-paid taxi booth and it's a hassle free ride to our hotel. The roads are filled with black and yellow taxis and there are lots of colourful street stalls. We're not quite sure where the hotel is and neither is the taxi driver. We know it's 'somewhere' near to Marine Drive, the trendy part of town but we don't think it's quite on it as this is where all the posh five stars are located and ours is just £35 a night (very cheap for Mumbai). Our driver shows the address to a passer-by and directions are given. We're astounded to find that the hotel is, in fact, on the corner of Marine Drive. It's on the third floor of a kind of modern tenement building and none of its windows overlook the harbour but it's location is perfect. It's like an Indian version of Travel Lodge. Tiny but spotless, rooms with soft beds and fluffy pillows. It's bliss.
We go off in search of food - I've only had a hard boiled egg and a packet of crisps to eat all day. Ian has also eaten a potato thing but it was deep fried and I didn't fancy it. Almost simultaneously, we both spot a pizza place, pointing at it in unison...decision made. I choose an 8" marguerite, boring but safe. Ian chooses something far more adventurous covered in salami, olives and peppers. Ian enjoys a cool Kingfisher beer and I have a strawberry mocktail. It's all delicious but I can't manage all of my pizza so the staff give me a goody bag which is promptly redistributed to a beggar on our way back.