We stayed at the Taj Mahal Palace – yes, the one that was bombed a couple years ago – and as we suspected it would be, security is very tight.  You can’t even enter directly into the old part of the building anymore (there is an original structure and a newer tower; entry is only through the new tower), and getting into the porte cochere requires security clearance and the lowering of these giant steel cylinders that are embedded in, and rise up from, the concrete driveway, and are always in the up position.  Metal detectors and bag screening mandatory (as in almost all hotels we stayed in).  I’m not sure if this made us feel more secure or less…but it certainly was an oasis from the madding crowds once inside.

This is the one city we visited where the British really seem to have left their mark – many buildings are by British architects and European in style.  The train station (Victoria, of course) is absolutely gorgeous and ornate; it’s almost a shame it’s a train station!  It was lightly raining on our first day, so we chose to explore in the van, and got a good sense of the city from there.

We of course had to go see the most expensive personal residence in the world:  it reportedly cost $1 billion dollars to build.  Yes, a billion.  It is a 27 story high rise, three floors of which are for car parking.  Three swimming pools and two helipads (that the owner is apparently having trouble getting permits for).  Built by Mukesh Ambani, one of two brothers who inherited the Reliance group of companies fortune.  They say he has 600 servants.  An obscene display of wealth…and here’s the interesting part:  apparently the Indian people do not see it that way.  “He and his family made a lot of money so let them spend it how they want”, is what our guide said.  She said he gives plenty to charity, and employs a lot of people, so who cares?  We found this perspective surprising, but it’s simply a cultural difference that comes from generations of people who live in a caste-based society.  Technically abolished, it nonetheless exists today, and most Indians are proud to remain in their caste and do not have any desire to “rise” to another (if that’s even possible).  If your father was a plumber, then you are proud to be a plumber yourself, and will likely marry someone who is also a member of the laborer caste.  Fascinating, really…

Side note:  80% of marriages in India are arranged.  The divorce rate is 2%.  Hindus are big believers in astrology, so in order for a bride and groom to be arranged to marry, at least 18 of 26 points on their birth charts have to be compatible.

As the rain subsided and the sun peeked through the clouds, we came upon the world’s largest outdoor laundromat called the Dhobi Ghat.  Now you may wonder why a person would even stop to see such a thing, but it’s so cool. You can see it from the bridge above, and look down upon row after row after row of these concrete “tubs” [stalls, really] that hundreds of men are washing all sort of things in (from colorful saris to white shirts to jeans).  Washing is generally done with cheap bar soap and by slapping the fabric against the concrete partition.  You’d think it wouldn’t work and would trash the clothes, but apparently quite the opposite.  Joti (our guide) said she sends things here because they get cleaner than in her washing machine.  It was quite a sight to see all these men (only men) up to their knees in water, slapping the clothes around, suds and water flying, changing to clean water, rinse, rinse, and then hanging the clothes on ropes draped across the tin roofs to dry in the sun…

Side note #2:  in spite of the heat and humidity, and the blinding sun that bounces off the stone buildings everywhere you turn, NOBODY wears shorts in India, and sunglasses are a rare sight.  It is considered immodest to wear shorts outside of the home, we’re told.  Not sure what the deal is with the lack of eye protection.

Being near the train station, we went to see the daily work of the “Dhabbe Walas” – guys who deliver lunch – that begins promptly at 11:30.  Ok, so, another mundane thing, you might say, but totally fascinating.  Get this:  thousands of lunch “boxes” (actually round tins that stack and are strapped together, designed to keep food separate and hot) are gathered and crated outside the city and then put on trains (unescorted) from stations as much as 90 minutes away, picked up by guys at Victoria Station, sorted and re-sorted, then stacked on carts or slung over shoulders or hung over bicycles, and delivered to thousands of recipients around Mumbai.  Each box has a color code on it (similar to a license plate, we figured, except that it seemed to dictate its destination).  It is also picked up that day after lunch and sent back on the train so it can turn around and do it again the next day.  The guys who do all this work are apparently totally uneducated, but they have their logistics nailed:  their delivery system has been certified six sigma, and has an accuracy rate of 99.9%.  It’s really astonishing.  Apparently business schools around the world come to study this to figure out why it works, and so well (two contributing factors:  Indian trains run on time, and no one will steal food).  We stood and watched the Dhabbe Walas come out of the station, already sweating, with hundreds of pounds on their head (the lunch boxes are in a crate about 2×8)…their co-workers help wrestle it to the ground, and everyone helps to sort.  There is a lot of yelling and arguing (without which, “the work doesn’t get done!”, they told us), and it seems like utter chaos with loud voices and bags and boxes being slung about and piled here and there, but within about 15 minutes, it is all completely organized, finished, and lunch is on its way.  Apparently, this happens nowhere else in the world.

We then visited Mahatma Ghandi’s house, now a museum of sorts with a library of books about him and/or read by him, and room of about 20 great dioramas depicting his life.  What an amazing man…who literally changed the world.  And who was assassinated by a Brahman priest for being too sympathetic towards the Muslims (specifically, Pakistan).  Why is religion so often at the center of calamity?  I didn’t know that he was a huge supporter of education and women’s rights.  He said something like “…educate a boy, and you have educated one man.  Educate a woman, and you will educate a generation”.  He believed that if a mother was educated, she would insist that her children were too.  I love that.

The highlight of a visit to Mumbai is to go to Elephanta Island, about an hour’s leisurely boat ride across the Arabian sea (that sounds much more glamorous than it actually is).  It is a World Heritage site…Hindu temples carved into a giant granite hillside – caves, really – completed over 200 years from the 5th to the 7th century AD.  They are so beautful, and such a glimpse into the ancient world.  Most of it is damaged pretty badly, as when the Portuguese discovered it in the 18th century, they thought it worthy of target practice.  Still, when you wander around, and journey through Shiva’s life told from giant carved panels in one corner to the next, and end up at the rear with Shiva in three, fully enlightened forms, it is really humbling and spiritual.  All amongst the dim light, shadows, and wet air of a cave, the barely audible drip of water somewhere around…what must this place have been like 1500 years ago?

Later that day, we braved the insanity of the evening markets.  Words cannot describe the hustle and bustle of shops and stalls lining the streets for block after block, that spill into the building interiors and across warehouses, with thousands of people buying and selling and haggling over everything you can imagine, from cloth to kids toys to electronics to spices to diamonds to kitchen utensils to flowers and on and on.  You can find anything here.  Literally, anything.  Joti bought us a huge bag of tuberose flowers to sprinkle around our hotel room.  (they cost 25 cents)  We were the only white people around, and of course caught a lot of stares.  And quite a few welcoming hellos with a desire for a picture…of us, or of themselves…

Our last day we will spend in the hotel, lounging around with perhaps a massage and lunch by the pool, as we had planned for our final hours here to be completely of leisure in preparation for a long ride home.  It has been an amazing adventure, exploring the cities and villages, meeting the people, and experiencing the history that has shaped a country which will undoubtedly play a huge part in our global lives in the coming years.

Until my next adventure, I bid you adieu, and…

Namaste.