Something to Declare

Travels with Stan

Prelude: Houston to Doha to Mumbai, December 1-2, 2024.

It seemed kind of silly to fly back to New York from Houston, only to turn around and then head to India. And Qatar Airways appeared to have a relatively direct route from Houston to Mumbai; only a single 3-hour layover in Doha.

Aside from Turkey (and, I guess, Albania), Qatar was the first time I’d been in an Islamic state. Only the airport, to be sure. But there were displays of religious significance:

This is not to suggest anything blasphemous, but Chocolate seemed to be up there with The Prophet.

On the shuttle bus from terminal to tarmac, to board the Qatar Airways/IndiGo flight to Mumbai, I had a brief WhatsApp chat with Stef. During this I was almost brained by a young man’s backpack. He apologized profusely, and asked me if I had ever been to Mumbai before. In response to my “no” he suggested, good-naturedly, that the (almost) clonk on the head would be a good preparation for the Mumbai experience. Little did I know!

I was met at the Mumbai airport (2 am local time!) by a rep from Ellen’s organization, who whisked me (by motorized golf cart) to and through Indian Immigration & Customs. That was the good news. At the luggage carousel, however, we waited for what felt like hours. There was a lengthy pile-up of luggage and other items, in response to which they had to shut down the carousel altogether to sort things out.

We didn’t get to the airport hotel till 3 am. Six hours’ sleep and then out for the car to Taj Mahal Palace in Mumbai proper.

Interesting ride, during which I was introduced to the notable smog problem (smell of petrol, stinging eyes). High-tech skyscrapers juxtaposed with island shanty-towns, all under the protection of the Hindu god Ganesh on the dashboard. Also numerous flags of the ruling Bharatiya Janata party.

The Taj Palace lived up to its name, with a welcome drink (mango and lime?) lavish architecture and interiors, and poolside relaxing.

I met up with one of the other tour members (Arlene, another Upper West Sider), and we had dinner, after which I returned to the room to collapse.

This morning, breakfast included a view of the Arabian Sea.

My plan for the day was to follow Ellen’s advice and check out the nearby Prince of Wales Museum (now renamed Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalay; go pronounce that, I dare you!), and check out the local Colaba neighborhood. Following that to dine at Trishna, a restaurant that had been recommended by Stef’s son-in-law, Neil.

But it was not to be. Left the hotel, and found that the local maps, street signage (including the GPS info), were wholly inconsistent. And that the streets were uneven, some under construction, and thronged with people, such that it felt like bumper-cars.

After several episodes of being jostled, and having my heel stepped on, I chickened out. Went back to the hotel, to draft this blog post on a chaise lounge by the pool. Later I’ll meet up with Ellen and Arlene, for carriage ride through the city. Much more sedate, don’t you think?

Postscript: Did I say “sedate?” Um…..not quite. Arlene, Ellen and I got aboard a motorized carriage for a ride around Mumbai. Chaotic, cacophonous, crazy! Traffic from hell, constant horn sounding, stops and starts and cars and motorbikes weaving in and out (traffic rules appear to be advisory only).

While stopped (either for another traffic jam or light), we were approached by a flower seller who appeared unable to take “no” for an answer:

Remind me not to drive a car in Mumbai. Tomorrow, off to the Elefanta Caves.