Gustible - under the rubric of [$_SELF]

14 December, 2008. Arrival Chhatrapati Shivaji – Mumbai International Airport – after 9.5 hours flight, just after midnight. My personal flight experience was in shades of grey – unable to read, sleep, unable listen to music. Mildly entertained by the two drunken businessmen in the seats in front of us. We landed 2o minutes early – and spent the time in a taxi holding pattern. Yes – on the runway. Finally we were back in India, after months of anticipation. India has a specific, and indescribable smell – getting off the plane, one immediately knows where you are.  It smells like some kind of home to me.

So – getting off the plane we were confronted by the under-construction international arrivals section of the airport. A full 90 minutes wait for our luggagage catapulted us into the airport twilight of “our pickup did not wait”. Numerous phone calls later (thank you, Blackberry) I finally identified a replacement driver. As we left the airport, pushing a trolley with a blue and a red Samsonite suitcase precariously stacked on top (yes, we don’t do backpack anymore – very sorry), the trolley’s wheel hit a bump in the “under construction” paving at the exit – the red Samsonite case unceremoniously tumbled into the dirt – and from the crowd I heard – “Welcome to India” – a cultivated accent, with just a touch of laughter behind the words. Welcome indeed, and delighted to be back.

Kumar (our intrepid driver) delivered us a the door of the Residency hotel at approximately 4 in the morning. The journey to the hotel took us through an eerily deserted city – seemingly crumbling building, with secretive blue neon-light visible through uncurtained windows, radioactively silhouetting ceiling fans, peeling walls, wiring.

Our hotel pre-arranged the pickup, at a cost of Rs 900 (Rs = rupees). This is a semi-outrageous price:  a taxi from the Old Fort to the airport will typically cost Rs350 – but cost varies depending on whether the vehicle has aircon, and probably on the hotel commission. Whatever. On arrival we discovered that the driver of the pickup vehicle had to be paid cash – of course we had an abundance of rupees with us, having just arrived from South-Africa. Fortunately there is an ATM literally around the corner from the Residency hotel, and I was able to draw rupees to pay the waiting vehicle operator.

The Residency – reasonable hotel. We got shown a room in the Annexe, and immediately declined the option on the grounds of distincly unsalubriousness. The room in the main hotel was acceptable – number 106. Reasonably clean but the price for cleanliness is a breathtaking smell of disinfectant. The aircon was in perfect working order though, and we fell asleep without further ado.

We woke up late – 11 o’clock, and took a taxi to Colaba as befits any first-time visitor to Mumbai. Of course – the overriding context we had for Mumbai at this point in time, was the realisation that the cowardly religous-political inspired murders had just been committed in the city. And the sites of the crimes are extremely visible in Colaba – the Taj, Leopolds. The latter still with bullet-holes in the walls, and plate-glass windows. Requests for donations to the family of the slain staff members on the tables.

Yet the place was absolutely buzzing – not in a trying-to-forget manner, but in a “we are better than the killers and zealots” manner. Any fear that we harboured regarding being in Mumbai so soon after the attacks simple disappeared after having been to Leopolds – Mumbai is truly Maximum City, in body and soul.

We spent two days in Mumbai – and these two days will be the subject of the next post – with scans of hotel bills, entrance tickets, beer bottle labels and postcards. Maximum media.