India was the first trip of its kind for us. We have been to much of Europe, Japan, Canada and of course the USA — all very developed nations. Other than K’s visit to China for her MBA program, this would be our first visit to a developing nation and we had been preparing ourselves that this trip would be a new experience — it didn’t disappoint.
Due to the size of this trip and the vast differences from our other travel destinations, we are going to break it up into a series of blog posts, so check back daily for the future installments. We’ll start with Mumbai — our first stop.
As we exited the airport, we were hit with a rush of hot and humid air — a refreshing change from the constant cold of London. We found our driver and started the 1 hour journey — though only about 8 miles — to our hotel. It was eye opening. The streets were packed. Workers rode in the back of trucks piled upon its cargo, a dozen or more children crammed into an auto-rickshaw (a three wheeled vehicle that is a cross between a go-cart and a bicycle), and a family of four stacked horizontally on a motor bike. To an American the drivers appeared insane. There were no lanes, non-stop honking, and the constant anxiety that vehicles were about to collide — though they never did.
Yes, Mumbai was definitely the shocker as promised. But as we soon found out, this is not how all of India lives. Just as in other countries around the world, India has its range of rich and poor.
As we walked around the downtown area, we attracted attention with our white skin against a sea of brown. It was difficult to stop to take a photo or check the map without being approached by a peddler or beggar. K in particular often gathered a trail of young Indian men hoping to be discrete as they altered their route to coincide with ours.
As the sun lowered below the horizon, dinner time approached. So far we had managed well adjusting to our new environment, but had not yet faced the challenge of eating. Prior to our departure we were loaded up with warnings about the water, fruit, and various other types of food. A bit nervous we picked a restaurant out of our Rough Guide hoping for a bit of safety, but unsure of what to expect. Wandering in to the cafe described as “the quintessential Bombay experience” we noticed the wooden wall panels, fancy mirrors and marble tabletops described in the guide, though it didn’t invoke the same luxurious old world feel of the similarly described cafe we enjoyed in Vienna.
Obviously a bit lost, we were warmly greeted and given a table and a menu. With a bit of help we picked a few of the specials from the menu. Looking around at the clientèle, they were all Indians, perhaps stopping for a bite to eat as we might at Panera Bread of Pret A Manger only with the addition of waiters. Unlike out on the street, they didn’t seem too interested in us. Following their lead, we headed to the wash basin in the back to clean our hands. Though we added an extra dose of our antibacterial gel for good measure. The wash basin is an important part of an Indian restaurant as many people eat with their hands — or hand. The right hand is the “clean hand” reserved for food. It needs to be washed before the meal and again after. Sensing we might might not be keen on eating with our hands, they brought us forks and even napkins.
The food was delicious and unlike the Indian food we have had in London. We drank lemonade straight from the newly opened bottle and avoided the freshly washed glasses dripping with tap water. Finishing up with the recommended custard dessert, we were satisfied with our meal. India wasn’t so bad after all. And, in fact, we would find it to be a lot of fun in the days to come.
Next stop, Goa. Check back tomorrow for details of the next leg of our journey.
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