Time is Money

It is a common observation when traveling in India that you find yourself haggling with a poor market stall owner over the equivalent of 50p or less, when at home in London (or wherever) you would throw 10 times as much at some corporate giant without a second thought.

This incongruous international money spending principle (IIMSP) is analogous with the spending of time. I will momentarily castigate myself for spending three nights somewhere that I should've only given one or two in favour of wider exploration, whilst I have spent three years living in Camden exhausting every nook and cranny it has to offer.

Taxi Driver

This guy owes me his life. Or at least about 50 rupees.

Whilst he changed the wheel of his taxi on a busy blind corner in North Mumbai, my job was to stand guard, facing the oncoming, insesantly beeping traffic as it expressed its collective alarm at seeing him on all fours in the middle of the road.

My heart was skipping as I handed him tools and passed him the new wheel in exchange for the flat-tyred one. But he was in good spirits, probably safe in the knowledge that the insane traffic flow beeps entirely arbitrarily and generates far less collisions than expected

It also somehow never seems to stop. Traffic in London consists generally of standstill queues but in Mumbai, every vehicle manages to ram its way through the everflowing anarchic chaos. I think Boris should consider a rehaul.

Anyway, after half an hour of roadside car maintenance (he had to beg/borrow/steal a jack and had some pretty tight nuts!), I thought he'd acquiesce to my fare haggling or at least thank me for the help. No such luck but the whole ordeal was so hilariously surreal and he so manic and eccentric that it was me who was thankful in the end.

Couch Surfer

Couch surfing in Mumbai comes highly recommended from my experience, if you are lucky enough to meet people like Abhi and Ashish (pictured below).

These friends from Calcutta living and working in Mumbai, welcomed me into their flat, (which reminded me a lot of my own flat - post adolescant males joking and laughing profusely at and with each other) offered me vodka and shisha, and took me out for a very spicy midnight street food feast (also pictured).

Thanks Abhi. See you in London some time...

Mumbai highlight

I am now in Goa with good friend Olly Simons, soaking up sun and rolling on waves and, as predicted, the intense and unrelenting city that is Mumbai refused to allow me a moment to post about any of my adventures there. But here is one highlight from my Mumbai diary…

I absolutely love this place, it is having a profound effect on me, opening my eyes, ears, nose and taste buds. Despite the desperate sadness of the poverty that grips me at times (often literally in the form of a small hand around my wrist) Mumbai is also immensely exhilarating.

Hanging out of a Mumbai city train as it speeds past slums, junctions, markets and all manner of congregations of busy people is a great, if voyeuristic, way to see the city. A 45 minute train ride costs about 10p and provides deep insight into the city behind the scenes. Thousands of flashes of what people do for work, idle entertainment, domestic chores and to relax.

Lost in the wonder of the miles of Mumbai that had swept past my wide eyes however, when the train arrived at my station (Borivali), I was taken slightly off-guard. Whilst still at relatively high speed, a solo flying ninja of a man leapt into the carriage and swiftly took a seat. He was by far the most skillful train jumper I have seen, such that I had a good two or three seconds to revel in his cat-like skills before scores of less adept people started boarding the train, shouting and jostling for seats.

As my face turned from ninja appreciation mode to ‘shit I’m going to get crushed and miss my stop’, a true gentleman sat nearby caught my eye and, with a calming nod, indicated to me where to stand. He then timed his silent communication perfectly to direct me off the train as he predicted the one lull in the crush that was my opportunity to escape unscathed.

I still had to wrestle my way through as the train was already moving off and gathering speed so I didn’t get a chance to give a return silent nod of thanks to said gent. I’m sure he got over it and I doubt he’ll be writing about the experience but his throw-away gesture was my exhilarating triumph. And next time, I’ll stand in the right place to observe the city flying by, aware that it reserves the right to smack me in the face at any time.

He hasn't even fucking left yet!

Less than 24 hours to go until take off so a few items are gathering ready for a month's trip down the west coast of South India. 

A few rupees, a couple of books, a recent Guardian supplement detailing how to write a novel in 30 days etc etc.

Well even if these things don't see the bright light of an Indian day, they have provided me the excuse and stimulus for a first blog post and an opportunity to decipher how this template works.

I will endeavour to continue to populate this web-based log with concise and interesting tit bits from my travels capturing the things I see and feel in pictorial and textual formats for your viewing pleasure.

And mum, if I've written a post in the last few days, I'm probably not dead.