After 2 red-eyes we arrived in Mumbai yesterday, Wed, Nov 19th. We hustled our way through baggage claim as the heat and humidity rose. After customs we exchanged currency. The guys behind the desk miscounted our American dollars to the tune of $99 (bank error in their favor, naturally). Laura was sharp and recounted with them. Despite that the men miscounted a second time to the tune of $1 (bank error in our favor). I wondered if it was there way of compensating us -- a little bribe so we wouldn't call for the manager -- but I let it pass. We were tired and just wanted to get to the hotel.
I kept my eye on signs but discovered the easiest way to navigate the hubub was to move with the river of people. Beyond the glass doors we stepped into the sweltering heat of noon. The river kept moving so we did too. I held tight to a pre-paid cab ticket we had paid for. As the river of people diminished into various tributaries a porter approached and asked what cab number we were looking for. I paused -- my first of many mistakes -- and he snatched the ticket from my hand and took off down the sidewalk. There was little else to do but follow -- go with the flow, right? -- and he eventually led us to a nice Sikh who was examining his engine with the hood propped open. They hoisted our above the car and tied them down while we climbed in. It was a "cool car", aka w/ AC. The Sikh rounded the car to close the hood and the porter popped his head in.
"Tip?" he asked.
Laura reached into her pouch and grabbed a ten-rupee note.
"Tip should be larger," the porter announced.
"I'm sorry, that's all we have," Laura said firmly.
The porter kept hassling us for more, and Laura kept refusing. To get him out of our hair I reached into my pocket where I thought I had stashed a 20 or 100-rupee note. I pulled out a $5 bill (USD) instead. The porter's eyes bugged when I handed it to him, he thanked us and left.
"You shouldn't have done that," Laura said quietly as the Sikh climbed into the car.
Just for reference here, folks, we paid all of $8 for the cab ride itself (a little more than 400 rupees, at approx 50 rupees to the dollar). So I tipped the guy more than 50%.
It took the cabbie 2 hours to drive from the International Airport to our hotel in Colaba district (central Mumbai). We tipped him 50 rupees -- a VERY generous 15%. The cabbie looked at the note. "Only 50 rupees?" I could see that he was thinking of the porter.
"We're on a tight budget," Laura said. I didn't say a word.
We smiled, thanked him and walked into the hotel where we checked in.
Everything is an adventure right now -- adjusting to the accents, cultural norms, haggling on the streets. We're quick learners, and fortunately we've had enough experience with poverty in Nicaragua and extreme wealth in New York City that we can take the crazy extremes here relatively in stride. The dirt poor children may be adorable and tug on the heart strings, but you make sure to keep their hands away from your pockets. The fancy clothes and Levi's Jeans stores may offer seductive clothing, but we're not really here to shop.
Instead we got around 14 hours of sleep last night. I awoke at 8 am (early for me!) relatively refreshed (though I'm still fighting a cold), and popped out onto the street to get some fresh bottled water and something for my throat. I found a nice chai stand where a man was cooking fresh chai and several men were standing around the sidewalk sipping his latest batch. I asked for a cup and waited, sucking on a menthol I picked up earlier. The morning air was city-fresh, like a beautiful morning in Managua. A crippled man (presumably Untouchable) rolled down the street on a piece of wood with four wheels attached, shoes on his hands for locomotion. A Hare Krishna emerged from the chai stall . I watched him offer a handful of something to the man making my chai. The chai maker paused, accepted the gift with a bow and popped the handful into his mouth. The Krishna smiled and painted a blessing (like a bindi, I'll need to figure out the word for it) on his forhead between his eyes. The Hare Krishna approached me next and I did the same, chewing what turned out to be a handful of sweets along with my menthol. He painted my forehead and mumbled something about donations for Krishna, so I reached into my pocket and handed him 2 rupees (I'm learning, folks).
After much patience my chai was ready -- and worth the wait. With an elaborate ritual the chai maker lifted the cook pot with tongs, poured the broth into a cloth strainer which was then raised and rocked back and forth like a dance. Cups were poured out and handed around to a crowd of waiting men. I joined them on the sidewalk, sipping our chais and breathing in the new morning.
I overpaid for the chai (8 rupees -- I have more to learn). You can watch people's mouths haggle the price up. Difficult to describe. It's like they begin to say one price but at the last moment switch to something else -- and much higher.
Last night I bought a pair of slippers for use in the shower/bathroom (we'll have to take a picture of the one at the hotel so you can see why it's important). One man tried to sell me a pair for 150 rupees.
"All I have is 50," I said.
"Sir, I am not like others. I do not charge 250, 300 rupees," he insisted.
"I'm sorry, all I have is 50," I repeated. I pulled out the note from my pocket to prove it.
"OK, how about 120 rupees?" he asked.
"No thank you. Thanks for your time," I said and walked away. Another man stopped me -- his boss.
"Wait, sir, wait. What is the trouble?"
"All I have is 50 rupees," I said.
"OK, ok. 80 rupees. We can sell to you for 80 rupees."
"I'm sorry," I continued to walk away.
"Ok, ok. We have a pair for 50." They brought it out -- not as nice, but hell, these are just bathroom slippers. I have a nice pair for walking around the city. So I bought them, thanked them again for their time and went back to the hotel.
The internet cafe is closing down for an exam of some sort. Laura and I are headed to Elephanta Island. Guess what kind of statues they have there?
Pictures to come!
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