Mumbai (fka Bombay) (fka Mumbai)

It depends on the age of the guide whether they refer to their city as Mumbai, or by its former name Bombay.  Our morning guide, who was about our age, continually said “Bombay.”  In the evening, the much younger guide, who has American siblings and spent several years living in Topeka, Kansas, referred to her city as Mumbai.  In 1995 the name was “changed” or “corrected” from the English mispronunciation of the original.

I continue to be astonished by the throngs of people here in India.  It’s Saturday and therefore supposedly a quiet day.  I’m hoping to get a glimpse of the white-clad dabbawalas delivering lunches, but because it’s not a weekday, I only see a few and don’t catch a photo.  If you’ve never heard about this amazing supply chain model, you should check out the movie Lunchbox.   Anyway, it’s Saturday and a quiet day does not mean a quiet night.   More on that later.

The morning begins with the triple checking of our paperwork by somber port officials.  Today our excursion is another panoramic bus ride.  On first glance it seems like, despite the 12+ million inhabitants, Mumbai is cleaner than the previous India ports.  Our guide is proud of that fact.  She tells us that the streets are swept every night-(probably by the untouchables.)  She’s proud to say that there are no longer any untouchables.  Everyone is equal. 

We drive by along Marine Drive for a view of the beach and the hazy skyline.  Swimming isn’t allowed, probably because of the public health hazard it would present.  Nonetheless, the beach is crowded and lively.  Some theaters and apartment buildings along Marine Drive are of the Art Deco style and date to the 1930’s.  Mumbai is second to Miami Beach in its number of Art Deco buildings. 

We stop at The Hanging Gardens which, aside from some animal topiary, isn’t much to look at.  They don’t appear to be hanging, but our guide explains that they are built over Mumbia’s reservoir to keep the reservoir free from contamination.  Not quite sure how that works.

Next we get to see another public laundry, this one on a much larger scale than the one in Cochin.  It’s right next to busy train tracks, so I don’t know how white the whites would be.

Every time we get off the bus, we are confronted by women selling bangles or other trinkets.  Also, young girls and women with babies are begging.  I’ve read, and we’ve been cautioned, not to give them anything.  Families lend out disabled children and intentionally disable them in order to appeal to the compassion of travelers. 

Next we visit Mani Bahvan, Ghandi’s home and headquarters from 1917 to 1934.  This is now a museum and tourist destination with his preserved library and study/bedroom. 

Heading back towards port we drive pass other prominent sites, ending with The Gateway to India, a structure at the seaside fashioned after the Arc de Triomphe.  I’m shooting photos through the bus windows, knowing that I’m falling short in capturing the feel of the city.

We have an evening excursion so we go back for a rest before heading out again.  

Because I’m a fan of “So You Think You Can Dance,” I talk Bob into this excursion.  It’s described as a scenic drive after sunset to admire the lights along Marine Drive, referred to as the Queen’s Necklace.  Following this is a Bollywood Dance performance and then dinner of northwestern Indian cuisine at Khyber Restaurant.  

It was very disappointing and a waste of money. 

We retraced Marine Drive, the same ground that we covered in the morning.  Had it been dark and “after sunset” as advertised, it probably would have been lovely.  Instead, it was a traffic jam, not just in one direction.  We had to do a U-turn and go back the way we came to go to the theater.  Not only was it not dark yet, but it was a Saturday night-not just any Saturday night, but cricket night.  An important rivalry between Cochin and Mumbai has brought the whole city out to Marine Drive.  Hundreds of thousands of people are lined up to enter a 50,000 seat capacity stadium.  The rest of the population is on the beach or in cars, scooters, and taxis on the way there.

Finally we get to the “theater.”  Our guide tells us that we can’t bring water in, can’t stand up, and will have to go through security to enter.  That’s understandable until we get there and realize we’re the only ones there.  The theater, attached to a larger performing arts center, holds just about our three buses.  This was obviously orchestrated just for us, just to suck the tourist dollar.  I can only describe it as LAME, canned music, mediocre dancers, no sets or scenery, just LAME.  Maybe it’s just me.  Some people seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Back on the bus and a short drive to the restaurant for dinner.  Dinner was good, but not memorable enough to turn the evening around.

As I write this, it’s the next day.  We’re on our way to our next port, Muscat, Oman and the security team is “preparing the ship.”  I’m not sure what all this entails, but I’ve seen them rolling out barbed wire on Deck 2.