Blog : Mumbai

We flew from Jodhpur to Mumbai, on a plane that once again was pretty empty. And were amazed when our bags came round the carousel almost immediately. Kate managed to sort out booking us a 'cool cab' at the pre-paid taxi booth in the airport, to take us to our hotel which was good and necessary as stupidly the transport connections to the airport from the city centre are s***. Outside the airport were a few shops and bits and we got our first taste of the Mumbai expensiveness in a supermarket, which admittedly did mainly only sell western branded stuff; Water was rs40 a pop instead of the usual rs15 and at rs100 (£2 ish) a Frosties snack bar was positively a treat for me!! Whilst the girls were drooling all over the sweets and crisps aisle and I standing by the bags there was a powercut - even the cosmopolitan and financial heart of India was not immune to them!! It was funny seeing how freely to cashier switched between scanning the items and manually writing down the barcode numbers. Had that have been Waitrose at home (my previous job and a 'bleeper girl') there would have been a full blown panic and quite possibly an evacuation, for health and safely purposes I'm sure - This place didn't even close its doors, just carried on! The taxi to the hotel took ages and in the end, after realising the driver had no idea where he was going, Nelen had to take to the s***ty maps in the Lonely Planet to navigate us to the right street. We passed the famous Taj Mahal hotel though and felt pretty posh even staying remotely close by - three streets back we'll have you's know! The Regent hotel appeared pretty nice and at the entrance we had high hopes. We put the confusing conversation about room costs, where the price seemed to increase every time we confirmed it, down to the language barrier and the room not being ready for us, despite calling ahead down to the fact that we were offered a choice between one room and a box. Our room was a three bed with one more camp bed set up, which was fine and had aircon and a clean bathroom, bonus! There was a pretty rank lingering smell though of stale smoke and basically stale life though, which hung pretty unpleasantly in the air after a while. We all piled through the shower without allowing ourselves too much time to breathe and started getting ready for our planned evening ahead, which we were excited about - meeting the brother and wife of one of our work friends for drinks and dinner. We went all out, thinking it would make a nice change not to walk around all looking like hobos for the evening and being the sluts we are, we even considered showing a little ankle and shoulder. (We didn't in the end though!) I wore my mid length blue dress that of brought from Thailand as a smart but conservative and just-in-case India dress and a shawl around my shoulders. We all put make up on, which made me just feel like a drag queen after honestly at least a month of absolutely no mascara or eyebrows or anything! I actually didn't recognise my own face to begin with and disappointingly we all discussed how acceptable it felt to look rough with no slap on, but to still look dogger with a fully cakes face, well that was something else completely.

We'd been invited to Etta and Olly's for a drink at around 7:30pm before heading on to a pizza restaurant they knew, which was apparently fantastic and would be a welcome change from curry and paneer for us. We accidentally left a little later than we'd intended but thought we'd be that polite 15 minutes late which would afford Them both a sit down after coming home from work, before we all bustled in! It took us a while to find a cab that was empty and would take us to the nearest train station, Churchgate, as Regent hotel oh so helpfully would not call or flag one down for us. By the time we'd caught one we thought it would be quicker for the driver to take us all the way to the flat address we've been given than go to the train station, buy the tickets, inevitably wait for the train as we assumed they wouldn't run like the tube and then cab it from the station at the other end to their flat. Oh how wrong we were and how spoilt we Londoners are with such light traffic in comparison to Mumbai's rush hour and how grateful we must be for a black cabbies knowledge. After nearly and hour and a half in the stuffy Mumbai heat, in a car with no aircon and a traffic jam with no breeze we were all sweaty and feeling pretty uncomfortable and pissed off at being late - once again the taxi driver had no idea where he was going. Nelen hung out the front window and asked the bloke in the car next to us if he'd heard of the road name - he hasn't but the woman in the backseat had and so all listened to her instructions bless her and related these to the driver. Again realising that after a few roads we were lost once again, the girls took to hanging out the windows and telling the address to see if anyone responded. Not only did the nicest man in the world respond, not only did he stop and explain exactly how to get there to our taxi driver, he left his friends/family/whatever and escorted us on his motorbike, leading the way for our cabbie. It was probably a fifteen minute journey and he didn't even wait for our thank you praises before he'd hopped back on his bike and pootled off after delivering us straight to Olly and Etta's front door. Very embarrassingly we were then two hours late and Etta was alone in the flat as Olly apparently searched the surrounding streets looking for us. As none of us carry phones or any valuables, we had no way of contacting them to let them know our lateness. We apologised and apologised and found them doing the same thing - that they hadn't sent instructions, a map, grid references! It was completely and entirely our fault for underestimating the traffic and we tried to reassure them of this and that we'd endured much worse since being in India and experiencing travel. Much to our great relief Etta wanted to go eat straight away and so we bypassed wine and headed straight for the restaurant, where we all sat drooling over the Italian not Indian menu, our bellies growling!

We went to a place called Metro pizza, which I think is a branch of the Battersea one and they did meter long pizzas which Olly said they were yet to try between just the two of them. We all agreed that a meter long would be perfect and he ordered for us all, two veggies quarters and two meaty ones... It was absolutely delish and we enjoyed drinking real Italian wine, it was a complete treat! We all had good chats about travelling and what it was like to live in Mumbai and a really nice evening. It was late by the time we'd finished eating and so we headed home as we were up early the next morning, which was a million times quicker than our journey the other way. Etta had recommended a friend of hers to us, who was going to take us on a tour of Dharavi slum, the one where a lot of Slumdog Millionaire was filmed. We got up early and once dressed on our least 'drawing attention to the fact were western' clothes and packed only the bare essentials in our bum bags and money belts we were ready and caught a cab to the train station. We brought our tickets, which were 40p each for a day of unlimited travel, Woohoo! And after double checking with the ticket guy that the train on the platform he'd told us was definitely the one we wanted, we had to run to catch it as it was pulling out of the station. It certainly put a bit if adrenaline through our bodies jumping onto a moving train and having to sort of shove people out the way to manage it. We had to quickly check back to the platform to see everyone had made it, as we'd all been standing in slightly different places! Mumbai that morning had a particularly funky smell about it and Olly and Etta had told us that during the early morning the smell was sewage, as half the Mumbai population live in slums and therefore use the sea as their toilet and so when the tide goes out the smell comes in. And also in the evening apparently during the second tide outting, it smells of fish as its perfect sunlight to dry small marine life on the hot rocks before eating then for dinner. For such a supposedly cool, forward and expensive city, it smelt the worst of all the places we'd visited so far!

We arrived to the station stop that's we'd agreed to meet Irshad at and as we were a little early and there were A LOT of people milling around and it was hot hot hot we decided to pop over the road to the Indian Starbucks Cafe Coffee Day where we all used the toilet and the girls had a drink. Etta had told us that Irshad was a professional boxer as well, so we were on the lookout for someone of pretty big build to meet us and take us round the Dharavi slum. He was a tour guide with an NGO charity but actually seeing as he was so good and knowledgeable Etta and Olly just directed people direct to him instead to help him earn some rupees. He was pretty young but really friendly, knowledgeable and seemed to know everyone in the slums! We felt pretty safe with him and also the fact that he was quite westernised helped when we asked silly questions like why there weren't more health and safety regulations surrounding melting plastic in the middle of someone's bedroom for example! He took us into the slums and the first thing I remember thinking was that although the buildings were half shack like and shabby, they didn't look awful and the kind of heart renching poverty that I was expecting. We stopped along a main road in the entry to the slums which had stalls selling everything and anything, but very localised. It was almost weird seeing the market without tourist tat being sold! Irshad told us that half the Mumbai population live in slums, even those who work blue collar jobs and even millionaires! He showed us down an industry road where we saw into rooms on either side of the road where men young and old were manning sewing machines, producing panels for those large suitcases and wheely hold-all bags. He said that Polo and Reebok have contracts with these manufacturers to produce a certain amount of bags per week, for sale. Although the working conditions would have a lot of people back in the UK in outrage, it didnt look like a sweatshop in the traditional sense, with children running around under rather large, dangerous machines. I'm sure across the slum there probably was but we just wern't privvy to it. We went into another industry house where plastic was being recycled, melted down and crushed into chips and sorted by colour for onward selling. I didn't like seeing young men standing inside the vicious looking chip machine as I thought it would hurt their feet so, but Irshad said they knew what they were doing. I suppose if you's me a mistake once that hurts you don't do it again. We spoke to some of the workers who seemed relatively happy, not desperate and sad as I was again expecting, although I did feel quite emotional about the thought of the men sleeping on the cold, hard, concrete work house floor but as much as that's an oddity to me, across Asia is it very normal not to have a bed and to sleep on the floor of a family's one room. We carried on walking and poked our headed into various buildings with metal works going on - the melting down of tin foil to make aluminium blocks once again, to sell, was quite shocking as again in the middle of a room that these men live in too, was a massive furnace with boiling metal being melted and the heat was outstanding. I also caught a glimpse into some of the actual houses which although looked grotty and run down on the outside, were pretty clean and ordered inside and small, very small.

Although Dharavi wasn't necessarily beautiful, with quite a lot of rubbish all over the floor; basic toilets hanging over the river with big holes to empty straight into the already stagnant and stinking water; the odd rat running around; houses and buildings crammed in together, next door and upstairs; the sewage systems running alongside the street edges and right past people's 'front doors'; the tangle of electricity cabling overhead, hanging precariously down - it was functional and everyone we passed didn't look unhappy. I sure of course that there were those who are deeply in happy but you also get multimillionaires who are unhappy so you could say that money isn't what buys happiness. Dharavi was pretty functional and very eye opening to be so different to our way of life in the west, yet so common here in this big metropolitan city. We passed a gaggle of children playing in the street, each holding or casting a wary eye over a sibling or friend and we stopped to talk to them. They loved high fiving us and bless they went all cute and shy when we each started dishing out pencils and they all said thank you in English. Throughout the slum tour, any child that smiled at us we gave a pencil to (thanks mum) and we really felt quite good about it because they weren't sweets that would ruin their teeth, or things of value that another kid night try and take off them, but an object that would help them with their school work and which they all looked like they treasured! Sweet :) Almost right next to where the children were playing was a very hot, open fire on the ground, where more metal and plastic was being melted. It did make me flinch at how close the kids were running, falling and playing near the heat and how accidents that occur in the slums are probably a lot worse than those at home and more serious but preventable.

Irshad then walked us down one of the narrow, dingy passage ways that link the maze of residential as opposed to industry buildings together. The stone underfoot was pretty uneven, the walls were damp and the wires hanging low from their holsters were a big hazard, but this was where we got the biggest glimpse into everyday life in the slums. The women seemed pretty house proud of their one room and many of the 200 say rooms we passed in a seven or eight hundred meter stretch we cleaning and sweeping out the rooms (and that's just ground floor 'houses', not counting the upstairs rooms which had vertical ladders to ascend to enter inside) Each of the rooms were orderly with everything packed neatly into one wall cupboard, there was no bedding or mattresses, as everyone slept on the bare floor, and cooking was done on a basic hob in the corner. It was a mark of the 21st century however to see colour TVs, stereos and wifi transmitters in many of the rooms! We saw the rubbish dump piles which were pretty disgusting, huge and full, with kids playing all around and building things with the rubbish. And the communal toilets that 80% of the slum dwellers use, but have to bring their own water to flush their stuff down. It was such an eye opening experience walking around all of the different residential areas and communities. Next we went round a South Indian dwelling, which was more like a low rise flat building, it seemed cleaner, richer and smelt if essential oils. The women stood in their doorways watching us pass and gabbling to their friends in different languages. Because so many different languages are spoken across India we've come to the conclusion that actually English is probably the common language between many of the people! Lastly we looked around the oldest part of the slums, the potters area, where terracotta pots were being made left right and centre, clay dough was drying everywhere and women had black hands and finger nails from all the kneeding. I remember once watching a Kevin McCloud documentary on the Dharavi slum and how an American architect wanted to bulldoze the whole site as technically it was illegal (no one pays taxes or anything) - before a law came in making any site which is continually accommodated for over twenty years, a recognised use of otherwise unutilised land. In the TV programme anyway Kevin's aim was to show the beauty of Dharavi and how functioning it was, it even went so far as to suggest lessons that we in the west could learn from the slum, but the reason I mention it, was because the old potters area of the slum was heavily featured on the programme. So I almost felt I recognised this part of Dharavi, having seen it before. It was exactly as the television had depicted it and really interesting to see the lack of development or change that on another city of location would be apparent over the four or so years. We saw some really cute children sitting huddled around a stack of pot lids, one girl was standing in front of the other children, teaching them, many who looked older than her, how to count in English. I found it was pretty humbling to see that, especially with the children of the west's attitudes towards learning and education.

Irshad walked us back to the train station, where we all have him a small amount of money to say thank you. It was one of the best experiences we'd had so far in India and completely different to our expectations in every way so we felt like he deserved what to us is a small amount of money but to him quite a lot. As we climbed the platform bridge and watching him walk away we saw him count what we'd given him, look up to the sky, say something and do a massive fist punch, looking as though he was saying 'get innnn' or 'kerchingggg'!! It made us all laugh and also feel pretty good that we'd probably just given him a months worth of spending money! We boarded our train back toward our hotel in Colaba, but got off quickly at a station that Olly had told us overlooked a slum called Dobi Ghat, which is where all the high em hotels send their laundry to be washed. We climbed the platform bridge and saw a sea of sheets, trousers, uniforms and more hung up on roof tops and being dried in the strong midday sun. Certainly a pretty crazy sight to see. We hopped back on the next train though to the hotel as we all felt pretty dirty, sweaty and hot and thought we'd all shower before heading back out into the city exploring once again. We went for a pretty late lunch to Leopolds Cafe, a place Lonely Planet recommended nearby and that is also famous from a best selling book about India. It was packed out with tourists and Indians alike and although still being expensive, it was significantly cheaper than many of the restaurants nearby us (probably due to how close we were to the famous Taj Mahal hotel!) I ordered a nice but huge vegetable korma dish which was spicy spicy but delish and with a garlic naan too, completely filled me up. We all pretty much waddled out of the restaurant and up and down the main street - Colaba causeway - looking at all the trinkets and touristy bits on sale. None of us actually liked seeing so many western people or so much tourism in the city, as it kind of ruined the illusion of us being off the beaten track and newly discovering amazing cities! But we thought we'd embrace it and have a day of polar opposites - slum tour in the morning and jewellery shopping in the Taj Mahal hotel in the afternoon! We headed over to the hotel and trotted around. Like in any posh hotel that we've been in though, we went first straight to the bathrooms and each spent at least ten minutes appreciating the cleanliness and marvelling at the wonder of actually being able to sit on a toilet seat without having to antibac the whole area or cover it in tissues!! We also, obviously used all the products at the sink, nice soap, yep to wash our faces, fluffy hand towels, yep dry our wet faces, nice expensive hand lotion, mmm that dies nicely as a full body moisturiser! It was the most enjoyable toilet experience for a few days we all agreed! We trapsed round the Taj looking hugely out of place - I was basically in my jimjams for la k of other clean clothes but we tried to retain the air of a billionaires daughter, who really wouldn't give a s*** what anyone else though of her, as she was probably the richest in the room! We talked loudly about trust funds and the new Aston Martin we got given for our birthdays which was funny, and made us feel very snooty but it didn't take us very long to realise there was no way in hell we'd be able to afford anything in the jewellery shops, which were all big designer brands and so we trotted right back out again! We went round a few other trinket shops but I found that a lot of the Indian costume jewellery was was to garish for my taste and either oh hold plated which isn't worth the money or silver. I was pretty disappointed but Nelen and I continued our wanderings around Colaba, exploring, as the girls headed home for a nap. We went into the big Nike a d Adidas shops, but the prices were actually higher than at home(!) and we found ourselves another body shop, which reminded us of being in Vietnam and taking full advantage of all the testers. We dosed ourselves in nice smelling stuff but because of the heat we didn't even bother with the nice body butter creams as we knew we'd sweat it all right back out. We also came across a very nice looking French patisserie place, which we walked into, drooled all over the brownies as then congratulated ourselves on the amount of will power we'd mustered to drag ourselves out of the shop and not eat everything in sight!

Back in the room we were all in a bit if a meh mood, not really sure what to do. As it was a Saturday night we really wanted to go out and see what the Mumbai nightlife had to offer, but it was super expensive to get anywhere, super expensive to drink anywhere, everything was super far away from where we were and it was that super annoying in between time of half nine or whatever, where by the time we'd all showered and were ready, it would be half 11 and places would start closing at midnight - Olly and Etta had told us that although Mumbai was famous for its supposed cosmopolitan-ism, it was still fairly conservative under all the showiness and the nightlife wasn't crazy crazy! We ended up having basically a slumber party, in our hotel room, where we ate too many sweets, drank beer, watched movies and made silly films of us dancing. We all laughed until our sides hurt and smiles were permentantly imprinted on our faces. We had a great time and even though by the time I fell to sleep it was late, and East is East was just finishing on my little phone screen, I slept well and happily! The next morning we were complete hotel w****s and ordered our free breakfast to our room, along with ketchup, salt and pepper, extra butter and jam and cold milk for the girls Tea. It was a complete diva order and as we missed dinner the previous evening, eating fizzy strawberry laces instead, we all woke up starving, so we demanded it as quick as possible too! Our room was a complete tip. With all four of us we have this terrible habit of just pulling out our clothes and flinging them everywhere. When I say the four of us, I'm probably the worst offender followed Kate and Nelen. Al keeps her stuff nearly folded on the table or chair or whatever and never makes a mess. Mess makes her go a bit stir crazy and that previous evening shed had to do some tidying to rest her mind and again in the morning she had to tidy half the surfaces so that the bell boy actually had space to put down our breakfast tray! We were pretty slobby and I actually ate my omelette and toast in bed, crumbs akimbo. It took about another two hours until after some serious faffing, everyone was ready to head out for the day. I did have to go and sit in reception and wait after about an hour, as i couldn't be in the room any longer, having spent all night and most of the morning there already!! We planned to go to so e of Mumbai's famous markets and jumped in a cab and asked to go to the jewellery bazaar, which would have been amazing as there were roads and roads and roads of necklace and earring and watch shops,had it not been a Sunday - everything was closed. EVERYTHING. There were only market stalls open, selling horrendous tat like electrify helicopter toys and the most hideous flip flops you've ever seen! The vendors were pretty aggressive, following us down the road for a sale and we did have to be pretty darn firm with lots of them, saying NO and GO AWAY!

We had a bit of a regroup and tried to decide on a plan... We thought we'd try heading to fashion street next, which the LP had said was where you could spruce up your backpacker wardrobe. In the absolutely stifling heat we jumped in a cab to go the four or five blocks over, as we were dripping just standing in the shade. We were still being pretty conservative with our dressing, even though Mumbai was meant to be a bit more relaxed for westerners, and I can tell you, its pretty suffocating in that kind of hot weather, trying to keep a thick cotton scarf around your shoulders as well as full sleeved and legged clothes! Fashion street was pretty weird, it was just a single file, straight line of hawker stalls, along the side of a park and pavement. All of the clothes were very local style and pretty hard bargaining had to be do e to get anything near to an acceptable price. We did however stumble across one gem of a stall, selling Topshop and asos knockoffs... We found dressed that we between us actually owned at £2 or £3; cheap I guess as they were really not to the local flavour... If it doesn't cover your entire body, is shapeless and in an awful floral print, or have some terrible cartoon transfer in the front declaring you as a 'good girl' then Indian girls are not interested! Goodie for us was all we could really think :) After some serious bargaining I brought a pretty white sheer top from Asos, which I thought of wear at home and so stuffed him to the very bottom of my bag when back at the hotel. We walked the length of fashion street pretty quicky and after disappointingly discovering the Topshop man was a one of a kind, retired to another taxi and headed to the gorgeous French patisserie Nelen and I had found the previous day. Al and i had a delicious quiche each and the other two had fresh made sandwiches, very Indian I know!! And warm chocolate and walnut brownies for pudding. We decided that we would need some extra energy for the Bollywood dance class we were heading too, later in the afternoon! On our way to the dance studio, we had a quick pitstop at a side of the road book market which was so bizarre as there was actually no walls to any of the stalls, just piles and piles of inward facing books, acting as walls and creating almost a mini organic library! I thought it was funny that text books for all kinds of subjects were on sale here too, still in their cellophane. I'd expected the books to be photocopied like the rest of SE Asia, but these book men were actually offended when I asked them that! I could get my head around why, if they were selling normal books, at normal prices, they didn't have a shop premise like all the other actual book shops. The book sellers equally did not seem to understand why a shop was necessary or a stamp of authenticity - India, so different yet so likeable!

It was a bit if a nightmare trying to find the dance studio, but we'd spent ages looking for a class on Sunday evening, that was relatively close by and also didn't cost the earth. I thought I'd hit the jackpot that morning, finding Dance on my Tune, a class which was rs500 each and near the next train station to us. When we finally found the studio, which was on the second floor of a big residential building, not at the restaurant the taxi man had dropped us off at, what I hadn't realised was that beginners Bollywood class meant young children rather than novices! We turned up and the studio was more nursery school than professional dance class, with the alphabet and cartoons plastered all over the small rooms walls. As soon as we walked in, all of the girls just turned to look at me as if to say why the hell?! I'd had a couple of texts off the teacher that day though inviting all age groups and even 'foreign-ys' welcome, so I'd been feeling all smug at my discovery. But no, I came crashing down to earth in those moments, we decided we'd go for it anyway, as it was on our list of Indian activities and we wanted to fit in at the wedding so needed to learn more than just the lightbulb screwing move! We limbered up with half a dozen six or seven year olds and a pretty militant dance teacher. She barked the moves at us in English as the children had to count, again in English, each stretching second and the beat to dance. A bloke we assumed was a second teacher or her husband/boyfriend/business partner filmed the whole stretching bit, which I actually found quite off putting, as he focused on each of us four slightly too long, whilst we were in uncompromising bends, with our tops gaping open or whatever. I did at one point have to flash him a rather menacing look as I really didn't want to end up on some Indian porn site, not even able to touch my toes! The girl was surprisingly round for a dance teacher, but very nimble and so flexible! Probably a real catch in India as the fattys are the rich women! We started learning the actual dance moves after we'd stretched our muscles and had 'two sips of water', only two, we'd not been instructed to have more, and all of the children obeyed, just tipping two small drizzles into their mouths. They all looked eager but also a bit spoilt, the children of rich Indians (both the dance school and the nursery the class was held in were private and expensive in Indian terms). They were too cool for school and weren't phased at all at having four unflexible, ill coordinated and super sweaty westerners in their class! The dance girl first told us to stand and spread our legs, which although was just her slightly imperfect English,sounded so dodgy and immature us couldn't resist a laugh! We got told off, laughing wastes unnecessary body energy apparently. The first move was a relatively simple side stepping and arm swinging jobby but miscoordinate your arms or put your leg slightly out of place and beware. Every time anyone made a mistake (always only us!) we had to start the whole routine again, after another telling off! We learnt five or six moves in quick succession and then were taught 'style' - the jiggle if the hips or the flick of hands, to start making the moves look better for when you are on the disco dance floor! It was absolutely hilarious and we were all so pathetic, especially compared to the kids who were great. A girl in her mid twenties, in full Indian brigalia joined the class at the back and was allowed to join in with some of the hip hop moves - shed come too early for her session. It was so weird seeing an Indian girl popping and grinding and putting so much attitude into dancing, especially in a child's class! Everywhere I looked I was having to suppress a laugh and could see the girls were feeling the same!! The weird filmy man and out again when the next move, a jumping and punching the air one was shown to us and we were super grossed out and tried not to let our boobs bounce up and too much! We ran through the whole sequence a couple of times which was fun and we all kept forgetting which move came next, but for a dance class it was quite strange not to dance to music. With no aircon it was also sooo hot and so we were sweaty buckets! When it came to a belly dancing move I surprised myself at being top of the class! The girl told everyone to look at me and said I was doing it perfectly... Yay for big Sanders hips! I was wiggle jiggling away as the example student haha!! I don't think I was a particularly sexy sight though, even the camera man didn't fancy catching that but on film!!

After the class we were sooo hot and dripping with sweat but feeling pretty happy with ourselves having mastered a 12 step routine, with added style!! I had great images of us taking over the dance floor at the wedding, performing to everyone and having Indian men throwing themselves at our feet... I guess the reality will be starkly different and desperately embarrassing! We got in a taxi and headed home after countless photographs and videos of us all saying the class was great blah blah blah an headed back to the hotel to freshen up. We passed something going in a big square though which looked cool and we jumped out of the taxi to go have a look. It turned out that a TATA car commercial was being filmed, with professional Indian dancers in the background free styling as some apparently famous Bollywood stars pretended to smash guitars on the bonnet and draped themselves over the roof...! We stood in the big audience that had gathered and watched for a little bit and as always, pretty quickly attracted a crowd of our own wanting photos and to shake our hands... Before we knew it we managed to blah our way onto the actual set, having said we'd just come from a Bollywood dancing class and were in the next couple of freestyle dancing takes! A couple of the boys were trying to teach us 'cool moves' but they all laughed when we did them so we guessed they probably meant something else entirely! We just jumped around and I pointed my fingers a bit and did some Saturday night fever moves! It was hilarious but I think if I was the director, they certainly wouldn't be the shots that made the cut!! All pumped on our 15 minutes of fame adrenaline we walked around the corner, back to our road and to a cute restaurant cum bar where the girls had a beer and me a rank watermelon mocktail. The alcohol was so expensive, were taking London prices, with a 25% tax on top an a disapproving look from which ever server had to unfortunately carry it to you. Being surrounded by good made us hungry again and so we decided we'd treat ourselves for the exercise (again after the brownie) and go to the pizza express we'd spied the previous day. It felt so naughty being in there and ridiculous ordering pizza in India that was more expensive than home, from a pretty bland restaurant chain, but it was a home comfort and dinner with Etta and Olly had given us a taste of Italian that we were still craving! Kate and I shared a pizza and boy was it yummy! We had to have a pretty early night that night, which needed up being about midnight anyway, because of an early morning flight to our next destination, Kerela in South West India.

We got us early early early, prearranged omelette sandwiches and tea was delivered to our room at 3am, which i quite happily devoured, even at that time in the morning! At check out, we thought it would be a simple process of paying out bill and then catching a cab to the airport but the manager staff were completely incompetent and every five minutes our bill total kept going up. We said we would pay individually and so split everything by four and the girls handed over their respective cash, each asking for change as they did not have the exact amounts. The guy behind reception proceeded to give them change and write it on the already complicated and in Indian bill, which a few minutes later he was claiming was additional charges and adding it to our total and then getting angry that we'd not payed enough. The dude must have counted our money ten times over and kept getting it wrong. I was hoping to pay on card but their machine would not work, which later and annoyingly I found out had actually worked and I had been charged twice on my card, as well as paying in cash. Ggrrrr! After about an hour of arguing about the bill total, we knew we'd given the hotel the right amount and so had to storm out and catch our cab just as the argument started turning pretty sour... The security guards were sent to stop us leaving but our driver drove off for us, thankfully and kept his foot on the gas the whole way, else we'd probably have missed our flight. Grrrr it was a really frustrating end to our time in Mumbai and to alleviate some of our stresses, still at 5am(!) we wrote a pretty scathing trip advisor review on the hotel! We geared up for a long day of travelling, to our bungalow on the beach in Verkala, Kerela and only hoped the next place would have more competent staff and we'd have an opportunity to relax for a few days!