Mumbai: Girguam Chowpatty to Banganga Tank

Rooftop breakfast

Hand sewn postal packaging

Valentines Day buffet breakfasts on a Mumbai rooftop...we could get used to this.

We had a mission this morning. To post our parcels that we failed to post yesterday. We aimed for Mumbai's main post office thinking that there, of all places, this task would be a breeze. You'd think we would have learnt by now.

We wandered through the streets toward Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus knowing the post office was located nearby. While we did find it pretty easily, it took some keen spotting as, like yesterday, it was quite hidden. After having our bag searched and signing in at the entrance while locals wandered past us, we were accosted by a man wanting to help us. We knew he'd be getting something out of helping us...we just weren't sure what yet. After getting the point across that we wanted to post our things as cheaply as possible, and finding out that sea mail has been "cancelled" (whatever that means), we were led around the giant room. We began at the registered post area where we had one parcel weighed. We were then taken to the speed post counter and were given a customs declaration form and finally, we were led out of the post office, across the road dodging traffic and to a tiny table on the roadside. This is where our things would be "packed." As if it was the most normal thing in the world, out came a needle and thread.

The man wrapped our parcels in linen before hand sewing them into tightly packed bundles. He then tied our rolled up customs declaration forms and tied them to the bundles, had us write the postal addresses in marker on the linen and sent us on our way.

Back at the post office our bundles were weighed, had stickers stuck to their material exteriors and that was that. Nothing is as it seems in India.

We then began the hike towards Marina Drive to check out Girguam Chowpatty (a toxic looking 'beach') that is lined by crumbling, old, charming apartments. It was hot. Really hot. The young couples in love who lined the promenade didn't seem to mind as they canoodled (well, put their arms around each other which is a pretty big deal over here) in the sun. Mumbai, despite being about half way up India, is humid. Chris, carrying the backpack, felt it soak him to the skin.

Celebrations

We passed what we believe were wedding celebrations where people danced, played music, surrounded a guy on a horse and enjoyed the catered plates of food that waiters provided as they made their way down the road.

We stopped for a break in the shade of a tree. Just as we went to leave...bird poo. In my hair. Chris gagged as he wiped the giant mess up with a tissue. How romantic.

A man, an instrument, a cow in a robe

Banganga Tank

We continued in the heat round through the fancy suburb of Malabar Hill and around to Banganga Tank. We were unsure where we were going as we walked through alleyways of steps enjoying the peace and quiet that a lack of cars brings to an area. We found the tank and ventured down to check things out.

People prayed, people bathed, people did laundry, geese and ducks swam, dogs lazed around and children played. The action was centred around a large, rectangular body of water surrounded by steps on each side. Chris made a new friend while I dangled my feet in the cool water.

After finally finding our way out of the maze of alleyways surrounding the tank the heat was too much and we found a taxi to safely return us to Colaba.

We had a lazy afternoon, took advantage of the 24 hour hot hot water then went out for a Valentines Day dinner. Note: aloo palak is not a favourite. Rose lassi however, is a favourite.