North India Tour - Day 9

Today is a sad day.  We say good bye to Ram.  We are flying to Mumbai where we will pick up a new driver and Ram will do the big 670 km solo drive from Udaipur airport back to his family in Delhi.

We don't know how he will survive without us feeding him and offering him good quality Australian humour that he doesn't understand.  He anticipates it will take him two days to get home.

The Udaipur airport is 25 km from our hotel so is a one hour drive. When we arrive we are shocked. Here on the outskirts of this small (by Indian standards) town is a brand new shining, glistening, clean airport.  Not many people here so we stay together and head to where the check in baggage is scanned.  We are flying with Kingfisher Airlines which is the Indian version of Virgin Air in Australia.  We don't know which came first but the colour schemes and the employees uniforms are almost identical.

There is one scanning machine and approximately six different airlines that fly out of this airport.  Small Indian point here - rather that have one scanning team, every airline has its own team to scan the luggage for their customers.  We identify that we are flying with Kingfisher and are told we have to wait as Air India guys are using the machine and Kingfisher scanner-man is not there.

Before long they grab our bag and place it on the conveyor belt.  We walk to the other end where the tape machine is being rethreaded, from Indian Air tape to Kingfisher tape.  The pain of the check in at Chennai just eight days ago has almost faded but we grip each other's hand as we retrieve our bag and head off to see the Udaipur CIC.

No line, a very pleasant lady kingfisher attends to us and we have our boarding passes at breakneck speed.  Find a comfy seat to relax while we wait.  There are a couple of shops so IW is off to explore.  She has purchased some potato chips and ordered coffee.  The coffee is delivered by the shop keeper.  What great service!

We open the laptop to check email and do some work on the blog then IW engages is a few games of Majong to pass the time.  IW has taken to Windows Vista Majong ever since I forgot to pack her books when we left nine days ago.

We are only 40 minutes late in our departure, have a good flight and by the time we collect our bags at Mumbai are about one hour behind our schedule but dead on time Indian wise.  We exit and begin the scan of the fifty men holding up scraps of paper with names on them.  Again the white faces work as he spots us long before we see him.  There he stands, arms waving frantically.  We wave back and head off to the car.

We are soon on the road.  Mumbai traffic is different.  We pass several large signs urging drivers not to blow their horns and reminding them that it is illegal to use a mobile phone while driving and that seat belts must be used - not that they paid too much attention to the last two.  They seem to understand part of the message as although the traffic is thick,  there is a quietness about it that we haven't 'heard' in the rest of India.  There is still the occasional blast as they persist with the habit of forming extra lanes whenever the traffic stops.

Our new driver's name is Shahbaz.  He is younger and does not talk as much as Ram so we have to enquire about things we are passing.  We ask him to find a Post Office as we have some mail to post.  As usual the drive to the Hotel via the Post Office is slow and full of stops but Shahbaz double parks at the PO allowing IW to scamper (maybe an over exaggeration of description there) inside.

By the time we get to our hotel it is late afternoon.  It is a very pleasant hotel in the Muslim quarter, a short walk from the water's edge.  We settle in, then decide to explore the neighbourhood before dinner.

Down the road, turn right then left and presto, before us unfolds of the picture postcard scene of the harbour.

Glancing up to the left along the path that follows the shoreline are crowds of people enjoying the sunshine and the view.  Further up we see one of the sights of Mumbai, the Gate of India.

This famous monument is the starting point for most tourists who want to explore the city. It was built as a triumphal arch to commemorate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary, complete with four turrets and intricate latticework carved into the yellow basalt stone. Ironically, when the Raj ended in 1947, this colonial symbol also became a sort of epitaph: the last of the British ships that set sail for England left from the Gateway. Today this symbol of colonialism has got Indianised, drawing droves of local tourists and citizens. Behind the arch, there are steps leading down to the water. Here, you can get onto one of the bobbing little motor launches, for a short cruise through Mumbai's splendid natural harbour.

We continue our walk along the foreshore where the air is thick with chatter, laughter and the cries of assorted vendors peddling their wares. You can snack on anything from fruit chaat (fruit salad with hot, spicy dressing), through bhelpuri (a snack of puffed rice, spices and hot, sweet and sour chutney), chana jor garam (spicy chickpeas), dal ka pakodas (fried lentil-flour dumplings), potato chips to ice cream, candy floss and aerated drinks.

There are fancy horse-drawn carrriages to take a short ride in but the most impressive thing is the people.  There is a mixture of tourists like us that can be picked out but the majority are Indian families strolling around the gate enjoying the sights, the coolish breeze and the clear weather.

When approached now I reply with my one standard French phrase of "Parlez vous Francais".  This seems to slow them down as they seem to be conditioned to reply in English so I just shrug my shoulders in an arrogant French way and move on.  I guess one day I will encounter an Indian who speaks French but then my plan will be to morph into an Italian.

A touch of Monty Python appeared here for me.  If you are a fan of Monty Python's 'Life of Brian' you will remember the 'People's Front of Judea' and the 'Judean People's Front'. You see in Mumbai you have 'The Gate of India' and in Delhi there is 'The India Gate'.  I guess it is OK for a country to have two gates.

After circumnavigating the Gate we head off down the road to explore. We have a rough idea where our Hotel is and have the address so if we get hopelessly lost we will jump in a cab for the trip home.  After a few turns we encounter 'one of those streets'.  Packed with shops and people - a pick pocket's dream and a tourist's delight.

We spend an hour or so strolling and looking, me perfecting my French shrug and IW daring to stop and talk and be inundated with new friends.  We eventually find a small eatery that seems to have a good menu and a few people inside.  We go in and sit down then all the others sitting jump to their feet.  Seems they are the staff and we are their first customers of the night - not a good sign.

We wonder if we should leave but they are friendly and are personal friends of Ricky Ponting (as is half of India when they find out you are Australian), so we stay.  The food was good and so was the price.  We stroll back to the Hotel for a good night's rest and look forward to a day of exploring Mumbai with Shahbaz tomorrow.

The Gateway of India - Mumbai