27th - 31st Dec 2011
The train ride fom Mangao to Bombay was again in an AC2 compartment. We left at 0930hrs and were due to arrive at Bombay Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus ( Victoria Terminus, or VT to most ) at 2030hrs. I was sitting opposite a 76 year old gent whose son, he told me, was a pilot with Spice Jet, a low cost Indian outfit. He was pleasant enough company and not over talkative, thankfully. I learnt a couple of words of Hindi from him; ha - yes, nai - no and dhanyabad - thank you. I think I will leave it at that. There are two main British topics of interest to Indians; premier league football ( as it is in all nations of the world - we remain influential in something at least ) and cricket. I may have mentioned when in Sri Lanka that as soon as you mention cricket and say you are from England the response normally involves the 'Barmy Army' ( the Bammyammy ). The Lankans, and the Indians, are fascinated by this boisterous group of bugle tooting, drum banging, fanatical heavy drinking English cricket supporters. I was reminded by a Sri Lankan that on one infamous occasion, when England were playing Sri Lanka at Kandy, the Barmy Army drank the town dry. The Sri Lankans could not believe how much drink this bunch of piss-artists put away. The Indians are similarly impressed. The BA have acquired cult status in the sub-continent, and this in a nation that does not normally much approve of alcohol. One of their drums is on display in prime position at the Cricket Club Cafe in Colombo and is probably accorded nearly as much reverence as that old fang in the temple at Kandy. By the way, I notice that the Sri Lankans beat South Africa in the 2nd Test there! After all the demoralised talk I heard from the locals a few weeks ago, well done them!
The time passed comfortably and quickly enough with lots of chai to drink, books to read and a supper meal of 'non-spicy' chicken and rice was served but, sadly, the views of the passing countryside went almost unseen. The AC carriage windows are double-glazed and condensation and dirt combine to make then barely transparent. See, or not, the outside view (left).
We arrived over an hour late, for whatever reason, at the VT. This seething ( Bustle Rating 8 ) gothic monstrosity of a building is probably the most impressive and iconic in all Bombay. The guide books describe it as 'imposing, exuberant and extravagant'. As a historian put it 'the Victoria Terminus is to the British Raj what the Taj Mahal is to the Mughal empire'. It is the busiest train station in Asia. I didn't get a chance to see much of it as it was dark and I fell foul of a bastard rip-off taxi driver ( it was late and I was in too much of a hurry and I should have known better ). He drove me in one of the squillions of bent, bashed and clapped out geriatric, cobbled together in India, Fiat-style taxis ( above ) with the boot held half closed by a piece of string, to my hotel in the Fort district, all of half a mile away. I learnt that I had paid over four times the going rate. The hotel, not previously booked, was rather pleasant ( The Residency ) and not too expensive with very helpful staff. Recommended, if you happen to be passing.
I woke up the next morning, looked out of the window, and thought I was in Leicester. I was soon reminded otherwise due to the sunshine, warmth and cheerfully attentive waiters. I then went on a wander.
Left: Part of the High Court. The Fort and Colaba areas on the southern tip of the Bombay peninsula are interesting, relatively clean and boast magnificent old gothic style British built buildings and pleasant parks. It is a very jolly place to walk around and there are surprisingly few touts.
The otherwise almost unheard of arts of 'street cleaning' and 'rubbish collection' are obviously practiced here. Maybe it will catch on in the rest of Bombay and even other Indian cities. There is a workforce employed, however inefficiently, to keep the parks and gardens looking nice as demonstrated by this chap ( right ) cutting the grass at the Flora Fountain.
The large grass park in the Fort area, called the Oval Maidan ( left ), is about half a mile long. It was hosting four cricket matches as I walked past. Tents were erected as temporary pavilions and it looked as if great fun was being had by all. The main 'international' cricket ground, Wankede Stadium, is nearby. It is hidden away in between hotels and large buildings and therefore difficult to find. The guy I asked to show me where it was asked "You from?" ( they never say 'where' are you from ). When I said England he replied, you've guessed it, "..aah, Bammyammy".
Didn't we beat them 5 - 0 last year? I didn't mention it.
Right: Even at this lowly level all the players were wearing whites.
Left: A part of the University buildings with the Rajabai Clock Tower behind. They seemed well maintained and NO LITTER! ( well not very much ).
I walked down to the Colaba district and on the quay-side is the impressive Gateway to India monument ( right ). The inscription carved into the stone above the main portico reads "Erected to commemorate the landing in India of their Imperial Majesties King George V and Queen Mary on 2nd December MCMXI. ( 1911 ). That is almost exactly 100 years ago.
There were long queues for rather wonky unstable looking ferries at the jetties on the quay behind. Trips round the harbour? I didn't.
Left: Nearby is the magnificent Taj Mahal hotel. This was one of the places that got attacked by terrorists in 2008. 163 people ( I think ) were killed throughout the city during this attack. I don't know how many died here, but several hotel staff and maybe some guests did. As a result, and quite understandably, most 'prestigious' hotels and buildings are now protected by army and police guards and they all have quite elaborate airport type baggage and personal screening systems in place. I went in at lunchtime for a gin & tonic. It cost nearly as much as my entire hotel bill for the previous night!
I then went to the well known and touristy venue, the Leopold Cafe, for lunch. It was packed. I didn't stay in the queue for a table. I went off wandering again and passed the Regal Cinema ( right ). Art Deco at it's best and reminded me of cinemas in Britain from my childhood. It was showing some dreadful film or other, probably a one in Hindi with lots of screechy singing and dancing. These 'movies' are an acquired taste, I suppose, and are immensely popular amongst the locals. The wildly enthusiastic Indian audiences, I am told, take a noisy pro-active part in the proceedings. I doubt if I will have the time, or inclination, to investigate Bollywood and all it's trappings.
Then to the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya Museum, nearby; formerly the Prince of Wales Museum ( left ). I think I prefer the latter title for obvious reason.
The building itself was fantastic. The exhibits not quite so much to my fancy. There were three floors of displays. Most of the stuff was a collection of statues, again, of Hindu deities. I am, by now, seriously bored by Hindu deities. Some remarkably dull pottery and paintings and ornaments filled a lot of space. There was a vaguely interesting historic coin display, and one of ancient swords, daggers and other weapons which, annoyingly, lacked any description of what they were or where they were from!
Left: The inside architecture of the museum. The most impressive aspect. The exhibits, in my opinion, were crap and appallingly labelled and displayed. There was an audio-guide which I switched off after a few most tedious 'descriptions'. For all my cynicism of things American, it needs something of their switched-on ability to 'do' displays and museums to get these sort of places sharpened up, livened up and 'on track' to attract and amuse tourists. With a bit of imagination and flair it could be done, I'm sure.
Right: Standing outside is, I can only presume because we were forbidden to approach it, a statue of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales ( later to become King Edward V11), who gave his name to this museum. He may not get many human visitors but sure is a popular guy with the local pigeons. I couldn't help but think; either pull the old boy down or clean him up a bit. Maybe it is intended as a deliberate insult to the old colonial power who surely deserve some credit for building the damned museum in the first place!
As I said earlier, I found wandering around this southern, touristy, end of Bombay City most enjoyable with plenty of interesting sights to see, vis-a-vis this horse drawn wedding carriage jammed in amongst the traffic. Although not too many touts and hawkers about, thankfully, there were several guys trying to sell enormous, mostly yellow, balloons. I can't think who would want to buy an outsize yellow balloon. Maybe they have some religious significance. There were a lot of armed security guards both of the police and army at all points. Some of their weaponry was seriously ancient ( 7.62 FN SLR's being the most modern ).
...and another shot of the Rajabai Clock Tower ( right ). This is at one end of the university buildings on the east side of the Oval Maidan.
I was due to meet up that evening with an ex-colleague who now works for the Indian Airline Jet Airways and who lives in a hotel in Powai district up north towards the airport. I was persuaded to use another battered old non-AC wreck of a taxi by a taxi rank ‘manager’ who told me the ancient driver was coming up for retirement, but was competent and knew the area like the back of his hand. It was also relatively cheap. The further north we went the more slummy the cityscape became. We passed through about 10 miles off filthy, dirty, crowded Grotsville before breaking out into relatively clear space at Powai and my driver was beginning to look around rather vaguely. Of course the old fool got completely lost, as I had fully anticipated, and we spent about 30 minutes driving very slowly around in circles amidst much traffic, with him stopping periodically to ask the way. It took us 1 hour 45 minutes hours to travel what should have taken an hour.
Courtesy of JP, the ex-colleague, I found myself, free of charge, in a luxurious room in the 5 star Renaissance Hotel. This is where these pilots are accommodated and have all mod cons including swimming pools, tennis courts, ‘spas’ ( whatever they are ) and wall to wall running waiters to pander to their every whim. How the other half live; but I am told that they also work very long hours with many overnight stops away from ‘home’ and they suffer chaotic rosters which, from my experience, makes for a stressful existence. For me it was a great and unexpected bonus.
Above: The irrepressible JP ( with the shades ) and another pilot Gilbert, from Newfoundland, Canada, hard at work by the swimming pool.
I took a taxi downtown to book my next rail ticket at the special ‘Tourist’ reservation office. The bigger cities have these offices and they are most useful and efficiently organised to sell specially ‘held back’ tickets for foreigners. If the normal local office or internet tells you that all the seats are sold, you can normally get what you want from these places, on production of your passport. This is a useful tip if you need an Indian rail ticket at short notice. Interestingly, the cost of the taxi ride to get the ticket and return ( R1500, or $30, and I was probably ripped off ) was more expensive than the AC2 ticket from Bombay to Delhi ( R1250, or $25 ).
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| The Gateway of India |
The time passed comfortably and quickly enough with lots of chai to drink, books to read and a supper meal of 'non-spicy' chicken and rice was served but, sadly, the views of the passing countryside went almost unseen. The AC carriage windows are double-glazed and condensation and dirt combine to make then barely transparent. See, or not, the outside view (left).
We arrived over an hour late, for whatever reason, at the VT. This seething ( Bustle Rating 8 ) gothic monstrosity of a building is probably the most impressive and iconic in all Bombay. The guide books describe it as 'imposing, exuberant and extravagant'. As a historian put it 'the Victoria Terminus is to the British Raj what the Taj Mahal is to the Mughal empire'. It is the busiest train station in Asia. I didn't get a chance to see much of it as it was dark and I fell foul of a bastard rip-off taxi driver ( it was late and I was in too much of a hurry and I should have known better ). He drove me in one of the squillions of bent, bashed and clapped out geriatric, cobbled together in India, Fiat-style taxis ( above ) with the boot held half closed by a piece of string, to my hotel in the Fort district, all of half a mile away. I learnt that I had paid over four times the going rate. The hotel, not previously booked, was rather pleasant ( The Residency ) and not too expensive with very helpful staff. Recommended, if you happen to be passing.
I woke up the next morning, looked out of the window, and thought I was in Leicester. I was soon reminded otherwise due to the sunshine, warmth and cheerfully attentive waiters. I then went on a wander.
Left: Part of the High Court. The Fort and Colaba areas on the southern tip of the Bombay peninsula are interesting, relatively clean and boast magnificent old gothic style British built buildings and pleasant parks. It is a very jolly place to walk around and there are surprisingly few touts.
The otherwise almost unheard of arts of 'street cleaning' and 'rubbish collection' are obviously practiced here. Maybe it will catch on in the rest of Bombay and even other Indian cities. There is a workforce employed, however inefficiently, to keep the parks and gardens looking nice as demonstrated by this chap ( right ) cutting the grass at the Flora Fountain.
The large grass park in the Fort area, called the Oval Maidan ( left ), is about half a mile long. It was hosting four cricket matches as I walked past. Tents were erected as temporary pavilions and it looked as if great fun was being had by all. The main 'international' cricket ground, Wankede Stadium, is nearby. It is hidden away in between hotels and large buildings and therefore difficult to find. The guy I asked to show me where it was asked "You from?" ( they never say 'where' are you from ). When I said England he replied, you've guessed it, "..aah, Bammyammy".
Didn't we beat them 5 - 0 last year? I didn't mention it.
Right: Even at this lowly level all the players were wearing whites.
Left: A part of the University buildings with the Rajabai Clock Tower behind. They seemed well maintained and NO LITTER! ( well not very much ).
I walked down to the Colaba district and on the quay-side is the impressive Gateway to India monument ( right ). The inscription carved into the stone above the main portico reads "Erected to commemorate the landing in India of their Imperial Majesties King George V and Queen Mary on 2nd December MCMXI. ( 1911 ). That is almost exactly 100 years ago.
There were long queues for rather wonky unstable looking ferries at the jetties on the quay behind. Trips round the harbour? I didn't.
Left: Nearby is the magnificent Taj Mahal hotel. This was one of the places that got attacked by terrorists in 2008. 163 people ( I think ) were killed throughout the city during this attack. I don't know how many died here, but several hotel staff and maybe some guests did. As a result, and quite understandably, most 'prestigious' hotels and buildings are now protected by army and police guards and they all have quite elaborate airport type baggage and personal screening systems in place. I went in at lunchtime for a gin & tonic. It cost nearly as much as my entire hotel bill for the previous night!
I then went to the well known and touristy venue, the Leopold Cafe, for lunch. It was packed. I didn't stay in the queue for a table. I went off wandering again and passed the Regal Cinema ( right ). Art Deco at it's best and reminded me of cinemas in Britain from my childhood. It was showing some dreadful film or other, probably a one in Hindi with lots of screechy singing and dancing. These 'movies' are an acquired taste, I suppose, and are immensely popular amongst the locals. The wildly enthusiastic Indian audiences, I am told, take a noisy pro-active part in the proceedings. I doubt if I will have the time, or inclination, to investigate Bollywood and all it's trappings.
Then to the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya Museum, nearby; formerly the Prince of Wales Museum ( left ). I think I prefer the latter title for obvious reason.
The building itself was fantastic. The exhibits not quite so much to my fancy. There were three floors of displays. Most of the stuff was a collection of statues, again, of Hindu deities. I am, by now, seriously bored by Hindu deities. Some remarkably dull pottery and paintings and ornaments filled a lot of space. There was a vaguely interesting historic coin display, and one of ancient swords, daggers and other weapons which, annoyingly, lacked any description of what they were or where they were from!
Left: The inside architecture of the museum. The most impressive aspect. The exhibits, in my opinion, were crap and appallingly labelled and displayed. There was an audio-guide which I switched off after a few most tedious 'descriptions'. For all my cynicism of things American, it needs something of their switched-on ability to 'do' displays and museums to get these sort of places sharpened up, livened up and 'on track' to attract and amuse tourists. With a bit of imagination and flair it could be done, I'm sure.
Right: Standing outside is, I can only presume because we were forbidden to approach it, a statue of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales ( later to become King Edward V11), who gave his name to this museum. He may not get many human visitors but sure is a popular guy with the local pigeons. I couldn't help but think; either pull the old boy down or clean him up a bit. Maybe it is intended as a deliberate insult to the old colonial power who surely deserve some credit for building the damned museum in the first place!
As I said earlier, I found wandering around this southern, touristy, end of Bombay City most enjoyable with plenty of interesting sights to see, vis-a-vis this horse drawn wedding carriage jammed in amongst the traffic. Although not too many touts and hawkers about, thankfully, there were several guys trying to sell enormous, mostly yellow, balloons. I can't think who would want to buy an outsize yellow balloon. Maybe they have some religious significance. There were a lot of armed security guards both of the police and army at all points. Some of their weaponry was seriously ancient ( 7.62 FN SLR's being the most modern ).
...and another shot of the Rajabai Clock Tower ( right ). This is at one end of the university buildings on the east side of the Oval Maidan.
I was due to meet up that evening with an ex-colleague who now works for the Indian Airline Jet Airways and who lives in a hotel in Powai district up north towards the airport. I was persuaded to use another battered old non-AC wreck of a taxi by a taxi rank ‘manager’ who told me the ancient driver was coming up for retirement, but was competent and knew the area like the back of his hand. It was also relatively cheap. The further north we went the more slummy the cityscape became. We passed through about 10 miles off filthy, dirty, crowded Grotsville before breaking out into relatively clear space at Powai and my driver was beginning to look around rather vaguely. Of course the old fool got completely lost, as I had fully anticipated, and we spent about 30 minutes driving very slowly around in circles amidst much traffic, with him stopping periodically to ask the way. It took us 1 hour 45 minutes hours to travel what should have taken an hour.
Courtesy of JP, the ex-colleague, I found myself, free of charge, in a luxurious room in the 5 star Renaissance Hotel. This is where these pilots are accommodated and have all mod cons including swimming pools, tennis courts, ‘spas’ ( whatever they are ) and wall to wall running waiters to pander to their every whim. How the other half live; but I am told that they also work very long hours with many overnight stops away from ‘home’ and they suffer chaotic rosters which, from my experience, makes for a stressful existence. For me it was a great and unexpected bonus.Above: The irrepressible JP ( with the shades ) and another pilot Gilbert, from Newfoundland, Canada, hard at work by the swimming pool.
I took a taxi downtown to book my next rail ticket at the special ‘Tourist’ reservation office. The bigger cities have these offices and they are most useful and efficiently organised to sell specially ‘held back’ tickets for foreigners. If the normal local office or internet tells you that all the seats are sold, you can normally get what you want from these places, on production of your passport. This is a useful tip if you need an Indian rail ticket at short notice. Interestingly, the cost of the taxi ride to get the ticket and return ( R1500, or $30, and I was probably ripped off ) was more expensive than the AC2 ticket from Bombay to Delhi ( R1250, or $25 ).
The only place worth going to near the hotel was a shopping centre on the south side of Powai lake ( right ), a short hop away. We went out for supper down there once. The hotel is on the northern shore from where this was taken. The lake alledgedly has one, if not more, crocodile in it which escaped from a nearby zoo. I spent some time gazing out of the window watching, quivering with anticipation, for the croc to leap out and grab the occasional unsuspecting local washing, fishing or paddling around the shore, and thereby to become that well known item, the 'Lacoste sleeping bag'.
Left: Another of our bovine friends strolling near the shopping centre. I have now heard two more variations on the myth as to why Hindus regard cows as sacred. One involves the fact that they eat grass and make milk to feed people, or something along those lines. So why for that matter don’t they make a fuss of sheep, or goats? I think they just make it all up as they go along. MacDonalds have their dreadful eateries in Bombay, but they only serve ‘Chickenburgers’. In fact the chickens and sheep take a real bashing in this part of the world as they tend to be the main ‘non-veg’ dish and sandwich filler. Chickens and sheep are definitely not considered sacred.
Right: Caroline, from Ireland, Gilbert and JP at breakfast. They looked after me most generously while I was there and were highly amusing company. It was interesting to hear their views on living in India ( Gilbert has been working here for Jet Airways for 5 years ). Suffice to say that having seen the sights downtown and elsewhere once they now have no reason, or inclination, to move far from the hotel when not working. Talking of people from Ireland reminds me that I have not seen any 'Oirish bears' since leaving Singapore, I think. Maybe the Hindu religion bans them. I stayed here for 3 comfortable nights. Thanks very much JP, Gilbert and Caroline for entertaining me.
I didn’t have time to visit ‘Bollywood’ or do a guided tour of the famous Dharavi slum on the northern side of the city, which is apparently quite interesting ( no photography is allowed there ). Dharavi slum is the biggest slum in Asia and produces millions of dollars worth of recycled goods per year including considerable exports, and was the setting, or inspiration, for that 2008 film Slumdog Millionaire. I'm not exactly sure what constitutes a slum but did you know that 55% of Bombay’s population live in slums or shanty-towns? I did pass another well known landmark en-route to the train station, the Dhobi Ghat, ( left ), which is a vast human-powered public washing machine. This place has 1026 troughs in which hundreds of people scrub, then hang out to dry, acres of laundry. I wonder if they lose many socks?
Left: Another of our bovine friends strolling near the shopping centre. I have now heard two more variations on the myth as to why Hindus regard cows as sacred. One involves the fact that they eat grass and make milk to feed people, or something along those lines. So why for that matter don’t they make a fuss of sheep, or goats? I think they just make it all up as they go along. MacDonalds have their dreadful eateries in Bombay, but they only serve ‘Chickenburgers’. In fact the chickens and sheep take a real bashing in this part of the world as they tend to be the main ‘non-veg’ dish and sandwich filler. Chickens and sheep are definitely not considered sacred.
Right: Caroline, from Ireland, Gilbert and JP at breakfast. They looked after me most generously while I was there and were highly amusing company. It was interesting to hear their views on living in India ( Gilbert has been working here for Jet Airways for 5 years ). Suffice to say that having seen the sights downtown and elsewhere once they now have no reason, or inclination, to move far from the hotel when not working. Talking of people from Ireland reminds me that I have not seen any 'Oirish bears' since leaving Singapore, I think. Maybe the Hindu religion bans them. I stayed here for 3 comfortable nights. Thanks very much JP, Gilbert and Caroline for entertaining me.
I didn’t have time to visit ‘Bollywood’ or do a guided tour of the famous Dharavi slum on the northern side of the city, which is apparently quite interesting ( no photography is allowed there ). Dharavi slum is the biggest slum in Asia and produces millions of dollars worth of recycled goods per year including considerable exports, and was the setting, or inspiration, for that 2008 film Slumdog Millionaire. I'm not exactly sure what constitutes a slum but did you know that 55% of Bombay’s population live in slums or shanty-towns? I did pass another well known landmark en-route to the train station, the Dhobi Ghat, ( left ), which is a vast human-powered public washing machine. This place has 1026 troughs in which hundreds of people scrub, then hang out to dry, acres of laundry. I wonder if they lose many socks?
Back downtown to Bombay Central station this time, to catch the 1640hrs train to Delhi on December the 31st. I took a bottle of wine with me to celebrate the New Year. Whoopee!
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