Fine dining

So yesterday morning was more of a struggle. Travel arrangement casualty number one.... I wake up at 7:17 in my scrotty little room. My train just left. Damn.

So I wistfully wander the streets trying to locate a travel agent, tip toeing around laid out locals snoozing on the pavements, to find Mumbai barely rises before 8:30am. There's only one thing for it, much more much needed sleep...

I woke at 11:20 in a reasonably foul mood, partially plagued by the 9 Vesuvian bites on my ass (great, malaria and it's only day #2), by the waste of money (tuppence for the 380 miles in question, to be fair), by the missed sun rise infused train journey, and the unexpected extra day in beautiful Bombay...

The view from my 'Delight'ful bedsit

But these things are sent to try us, and since I am on my gap yar spiritual journey of yoga and meditation in Indya literally, I thought forgeeetttaboutit! And though I do have a niggling thought that; had I got through to Jack before bed last night he would have inevitably told me to most certainly not rely on my trusty, but now disgraced, Casio (furious you were right there big guy...), sweet karmic reverberations did, as a result, have me serendipitously stumble across the lovely Pooja. A beautiful and open minded bio-med student turned incredibly talented seamstress. We converse at length about the similarities and differences between our cultures, but mainly to be honest about food. It turns out i haven't had anything near enough authentic Bombay culinary excellence, so I am fortuitously whisked away to meet friend Carpesh at a cool place a little further North call Onk Kake - Punjab for Hey! Younger Brother - and so begins my brief introduction to Indian eating...

I must try paani puri - which turns out to be those curious little crispy spheresI've been seeing piled high on the road sides, which are 'sweet and at the same time sour and at the same time salty'. Bhaji actually means vegetable, daal is curry and sukh means dry. Wow, and as an intriguing side note; my dictionary knows that starbucks better appears as Starbucks, but it knows nothing of bhaji or daal. It is definitely missing out.  I had the sneaking suspicion that local UK curry houses aren't perhaps fully demonstrative of the fragrant spectrum of sumptuous Indian offerings, but I am sort of still constantly surprised. 

We eat roti dunked in a myriad of delicious sauces, navigating precariously but joyously with our hands until I can barely move. And then comes some rice. For the main aspect of the meal. Dear lord! After we finish (well, as much we can, all for 1.80 GBP!) and have a quick group snap; I practically roll out the resturarnt, turgid with Thali, bid Pooja and Carpesh a fond farewell and stroll back to watch the sunset at the Gate of India before my train to Goa. Within about 2 milliseconds I am spotted again, the only white skin amidst a mass of dark shades. They are currently occupying a considerate 4ft perimeter, with the occasional handshake thrust upon me. Oh! Strike that, they've closed in.....

I had to pack up my shiz and bail, as the fury of photos became slightly alarming. I've got a wicked photo of a wall of intrigued Indians snapping a photo of me...I'll put it up soon. And oh yea! Pooja answered the ginger barnett mystery. It's henna! Which makes more sense... Sort of.

                              

The bus sleeper bus was pretty sweet and I slip into a languorous laid back lethargy snoozing fairly immediately. Two hours later I wake up, and we're still not even out the city! How I slept through the relentless beeping I literally do not know. Over the next 14 hours I sleep mostly, and we stop several times to let people out and the only sound to break the night's silence is the occasional obstreperous hocking up of a filthy loogey, favourite pass time of Indian dudes it seems, before they pelt them out the nearest window or onto the floor. Nice. I guess they say better out that in, but in this instance I'd be inclined to disagree.

Ironically, the only awesome apostrophe I've seen so far was spotted around this time:

    d'not spit

An interesting twist on the omission of a letter, but each to their own! What I am growing to like about the culture is they it all their own way; apostrophes, half built houses, highly questionable driving methods, strained looking power cables clusters, the cheeky extra half hour on the time difference. I kind of like it!

Oh! Remind me to mention the bats next time! I made it to Agonda in Goa, and have had the induction with some other epic yogi bears, but insufficient hydration perhaps, coupled with intense cooking from the sun beckons my weard head to sleep. Peace out.