Sunday, April 3rd was our first day of being real tourists. Our plan was to go to Elephanta Island. The name comes from a huge stone elephant that was found on the island, but has since been moved to stand in front of a building somewhere or other in Mumbai. I’d heard good things about the island, which is full of caves with ancient stone carvings, and we were all excited to see it.
To reach the island, we first had to drive south for about an hour to the Gateway of India. The Gateway of India is a big structure located on the water, and it is where the British ceremoniously left India. Next to the gateway are ferryboats that take us on a one-hour boat ride to the island.
Of course, before we left, we had to enjoy a wonderful breakfast of poha. Poha is, I think, flattened rice. Little white pieces about the shape and size of your pinky fingernail, you can make it savory or sweet (as they say here in India). For breakfast, we made it savory, and my cook had added onions, potatoes, curry flavorings, etc to it. We ate leisurely, as Mom, Auntie, and Fez had been up for hours, watching the birds from the porch, as was their morning tradition.
After finishing breakfast, we came down to the car to meet my driver. He is a pretty emotional and honest guy. He tells me about each time he cries, for example. But I guess it is good he is being honest. Of course, he also tells me about when he is lying to other people. So who knows what is truth or not. But, I do have to say that we were all in hysterics with his story that morning.
Last night, of course, India won the Cricket World Cup, right here in Mumbai. Needless to say, the city was pretty ecstatic. Fireworks had been set off all night, and we were going to ask my driver if he’d been enjoying the revelry. But he beat us to it.
“How was your night?” we asked him. “Oh, very bad,” he replied. Apparently, he WAS out enjoying the partying, but enjoyed it a bit too much. His wife (who, by the way was sick, and on a liquid diet for the week, and probably extra grumpy because of it) kept calling him, asking him to come home. But he was out, having fun with his friends, and kept saying no to the repeated phone calls. Eventually, she just locked the door on him and went to bed! “So I came here to sleep in the car,” he concluded his story. We were all mixed with pity and laughter.
So yes, my driver slept in the car. Later Auntie pointed out that his t-shirt (it is weird, but Indians iron their t-shirts here) was much wrinkly-er than it had been the day before! But the poor guy hasn’t had food since the previous evening. We kept asking if he wanted to stop and grab something, but “no, no, no, let’s go” was the answer. I just hope he wasn’t too hung over.
We drove south, pointing out Ambani’s crazy fantastic house along the way. There are several super rich people in India. The most famous (at least, by my reckoning) is a family named TATA. I mean, talk about your fingers in every pie. They sell cars, trucks, bottled water, internet connectivity, gas, jewelry, etc. Very different pies. I mean, I know Kraft owns a ton of stuff in America, but I thought it was all food-related. TATA is all over the board. Anyhow, after TATA, Ambani is pretty famous. The school I worked at was named after him. He has a huge energy and textiles industry. Well, the original Ambani died, so I think this must be one of his sons. Anyhow, his house…. Well, I googled a picture of it if you are interested…(scroll to the bottom) http://bharatlines.com/mukesh-ambani-his-wife-nita-ambani-to-their-new-house-building-antilia-in-mumbai-photos-pics/. The stories I heard about it are actually less impressive than the truth. It is apparently 27 floors, not the 17 I’ve been told. I’ve also heard that only 7 people live in it. Anyhow, it is quite a house, so we made sure to point it out before continuing our drive.
We next stopped at Nariman Point. It is home to my husband’s office, but it is also the end of a beautiful walkway called Marine Drive. You can walk for a good hour along this drive (which we didn’t do that day), just enjoying a good breeze and the Arabian Sea. However, we didn’t stop for a walk; stopped at the Point to take photos of where the terrorists stormed onto Indian land in 2008, via small speedboats. I actually had never heard this level of detail before, and I couldn’t find confirmation or denial that this is where they actually landed. But it is where my driver told me they landed. It is so weird to stand there, see all of the people, see the beautiful water, and imagine how scary those days must have been. We did get in trouble, though, because (naturally) we smiled in the photos, and my driver told us that for that location, it was inappropriate.
The point is full of 4-pointed (stars, according to my driver) cement water breaks. They sort of look like the pieces from that old game jacks, where you bounce the ball and pick up the jack pieces. They are kind of pretty, the way they all stack up against each other in the water. So many Indian tourists were at the Point, enjoying the day. There was a vendor selling street food, which Mom really wanted to try. So my driver bought it for us (so we didn’t have to pay the white-person price), and we snacked on it. It was sort of boring tasting. I expected more flavor from an Indian dish. When we had our fill of the Point, we drove to the Gateway of India and looked for parking.
Parking was difficult. We’d forgotten that the Cricket World Cup had been held the day before, and apparently the team was staying, and partying, in a hotel next to the Gateway. So we drove around, looked at some beautiful British era buildings (I know it is terrible to say, but the only beautiful buildings in Mumbai are British era buildings. The rest of the stuff, unless it serves a religious purpose or is a hotel, is incredibly ugly). Eventually parking was found and we walked to the Gateway for tickets.
I am so glad our driver was with us. It was a complete madhouse, full of people waiting for the ferries, mixed with the news reporters, news vans, and fans hoping to get a glimpse of the world championship team (from India, of course!). Actually, I like of liked it. They weren’t staring at us for a change. But it was chaotic. But our driver, having never been to the island himself, at least understood the language, and after a few words, he ran up to the proper ticket booth, and found us the correct line to wait in for the Elephanta Island ferry.
It is a good thing we had him to tell us the proper line, because on our way back, our boat and another boat looked like they would collide! It was pretty scary, actually. Both were doing turning maneuvers to stop the collision, and there wasn’t a safety talk when we entered the boat. If there were life vests, they were well hidden, and I’m guessing someone that fell in would have to make-do with the rubber tires tied to the boats as a life preserver. But never fear, we didn’t quite collide- in fact we stopped, and took on a passenger from the other boat. Apparently the guy had gotten on the wrong ferry, and he needed our boat to take him back to shore. So, like I said, I’m glad we had our driver to get us on the right boat!
We waited in the long ferry line, which fortunately had a few cops/men in uniform next to it, keeping us in line and not cutting. Very shortly, we boarded our ferry. This thing was ancient. My driver, who was going with us to the island, joked that it was a British-era boat. I think it might be true, though! We paid an extra 10 rupees (about a quarter) to sit on the top level.
The ride was supposed to take an hour, but the boat was a bit slow. We stopped counting how many ferries passed us, and instead started applying extra sun block, to the amusement of the Indian tourists on board. But we didn’t care; we didn’t need to burn up there. My driver started complaining about the heat. He still hadn’t eaten anything for the day!
My driver, I do have to say, has an obsession with drinking sugar cane water. He does it each morning. He tells me it is good for his health. I always ask him how it is for his teeth, but he says his teeth are great. The front ones are okay. The back teeth are orange, though. Anyhow, the point of this is that no, he still hasn’t had food yet. But he did stop, while we were walking to the Gateway, to get his morning glass of sugar cane. Can you imagine how awful you would feel at noon after having partied all night, with no food in your system but sugar cane water? Especially with the sun beating down on your forehead.
As my driver had pointed out, the boat was old. The two level boat had a crooked wooden cross at the top, and there were seats for 50 or so around the edge of the boat on the upper deck. The upper deck seats, made of red plastic faded to a pink, had upholstery that had long since disintegrated, and left bits of dirt and foam cushioning on our backsides when we got up. Especially Fez’s. I’m sure it was much to the amusement of the rest of the boat that we brushed her off, but you really can’t go walking around with those years of grime stuck to your backside.
When we exited the boat, we were in for a real surprise. Rather than docking on, say, a dock, our ferry instead tied up to another ferry. That ferry was tied to a staircase. The whole process was odd. So we had to step, over the open water, from one swaying boat, to another swaying boat. We then, to get off of that boat, had to step on some rubber tires and then step up onto the staircase. At least we were tall. I think it would have been very difficult for a little kid. Or a parent with the little kid in their arms. On the staircase when we returned, I actually tripped, fell, and scratched my sunglasses. So it is dangerous!
Regardless, we finally walked up and were on the island. I immediately bought everyone a bottle of water. The pricing was honest, which made me happy. I also bought a little guidebook, but it was completely worthless, as we came to find out. There really isn’t much to see on the island.
The tide was high (it is really fun to live someplace where I actually get to see the changing tides, I’ve never noticed things like that before), so we looked at some submerged poles and speculated whether or not they were shipwrecked boats. We walked along, the food vendors not too difficult to ignore. Of course, the fancy hat vendor was temping, especially for a nice ridiculous pink hat, but we saved our money and walked on along the narrow cement path, surrounded on both sides by swampy waters.
We soon came upon a tiny little train. It is even smaller than the one that drives around Cedar Point. It sort of looked like a train you’d see set up at the county fair for little kids. The engine car was painted in bright colors, a mix of pinks, greens, and blues or something like that, unlike an American engine that would be plain black, red, or maybe yellow. “You want to ride the train?” our driver asked eagerly. We looked at it. The ending point, the end of the narrow walkway, wasn’t too far away. It’d be faster to walk…. But what the heck, you are only here once. We paid the fare (10 rupees, round trip), and waited to hop on board.
The seats were just wooden benches, painted black, and fit 2 or 3 people per row. I was seated next to the edge of the pathway, and I wondered how many times people fell off and got stuck between the wall and the train. Very, very shortly, our train ride was done and we entered upon the next pathway.
The next pathway was a huge set of stairs. Well over 100 steps, I am sure. Before we were allowed on the stairs, we stopped and paid a government tax of 5 rupees. I, eternally hungry, also stopped for an ear of corn that was roasted over an open fire. Yum! I ate it as we walked toward the open stairwell. The pathway had widened to a comfortable distance, and on either side were vendors with typical touristy items, like statue elephants and jewelry. Of course, we weren’t just sharing our pathway with humans. Cows were there, too! And cows like corn….
At first, the cows were just moseying about; doing whatever it is cows do on a cement slab. But then they noticed my ear of corn, and very determinedly walked towards me. “Hide it!” shouted my driver. I put it behind my back, but not before taking another bite. It was good! He went and stood in front of the first cow, and managed to distract it and let me slip past it. Then the next. And the next…. The cows weren’t aggressive, but one definitely gave me a nudge on my backside. They were cute, but I wasn’t giving up my corn. Once I finished my corn the cows stopped following and we had reached the beginning of the staircase.
The staircase was huge. It was wide, build of cement, and extended up for as far as the eyes could see. It was outdoors, and on either side of the stairwell were vendors hawking items. Beyond the stairs were scattered trees, cows, dogs, and small huts. The entire thing was fortunately covered with blue tarps, so at least the sun was kept off of your back as you hiked up it.
And on every side, monkeys pranced about! They were on top of the blue tarp; they were running up both sides of the stairwell. Some would run across, blocking your path. Some were aggressive, hissing at us. Many were nursing mothers. Others just wanted our food. I will admit to screaming a few times when they got too close. The fun cows were instantly forgotten. Our driver was braver (or stupider, your pick) than us, and went straight up to the monkeys and would harass them. He would get close, make some monkey hissing sound, and then use his elbow as a point to get them to back off. It seemed to work, but I don’t quite understand the whole elbow thing. Regardless, we enjoyed watching him play with the monkeys. He gave them some pass-pass, which is the Indian equivalent of an after dinner mint. I love that stuff; it is all minty and fresh in your mouth. It looks like the monkeys liked it, too.
We walked up the stairs, slowly huffing in the muggy air, looking at all of the items up for sale, noting their locations for our way back down. When we finally reached the top, it opened into the island admission. It is so odd- so far we’ve paid for the ferry ride, a train ride, and a tax, but despite being on the island for an hour, we haven’t actually paid for admission to the caves. I wondered if people took the ferry the whole way there just to shop.
We stood in line, and listened to people probably similar to me argue that they should be able to pay the Indian rate, because they lived in India. But their skin was white, and they were refused. The Indian rate is always much, much cheaper than the foreigner rate. I mean, it does make sense, right? Some places in America (state parks, even museums) have different rates. If you are already from the city and already pay the city taxes, then you get a discount. This woman already lived in India, and paid its taxes. But she was white, so she still doesn’t get the discount. My husband and I actually have to carry around these little blue books stating as much, but I’ve only had it honored once, so I stopped carrying it around.
We finally pay our admission to the caves, and walk to the first cave. It is a very short walk, just a minute or two. We are on an island, now at a relatively higher elevation, so there is a good breeze, and a fair amount of shade. The wily monkeys are still running about, cows wandering around, and the ever present, well-behaved dog just sits patiently waiting for food scraps. I know I mention the stray dogs in nearly every blog, but they are SO well-behaved. I mean, these monkeys are awful, and harassing people, taking food. The cows try to bully for it. But the feral dog? It just sits there, enjoying the human company. Weird. But I like it.
Anyhow, we walked up to the main cave, which is the largest. You walked not down, but straight into the cave. Unlike most caves, it was still quite hot. The walls had huge carvings of people, bulls, and gods. The dates of the carvings are unknown, but old (I’ve heard anywhere between 2nd century and 8th century), and most were worn down and nearly all of the women had at least one breast missing.
I will be honest. I was pretty disappointed. I had heard that the caves were not well kept, but they were awful. Have you ever been to a miniature golf course, and it has big ‘landscaping rocks’ scattered about? Maybe one of the rocks even has a waterfall? When you look closely at the ‘rocks’, they are very obviously made of concrete or plastic…. This is what the cave looked like. It was all fake material. Most of it was so old; it had the steel re-enforcement beams showing. At one point, I even noticed a small ‘door’ in the ‘rock’ that was the electricity outlet. The whole thing looked like a hokey movie set from the 1960’s TV show Lost in Space. When you look at a picture of the cave entrance, it is obvious where they put in huge reinforcements. But even inside, you’ll be looking at something you think is real, and realize it is in fact new. So I don’t really know what was real or not inside. I mean, I know some of the carvings must have been legit, but overall, there is so much repair work, it is hard to really enjoy it. At least from a geologist’s prospective. Other people didn’t seem as horrified as I was.
We took a few fuzzy photos, and wandered off to the next cave. I still enjoyed myself, despite being disappointed in the caves. It is easy to have fun when surrounded with family and friends and a good breeze! The first cave was by far the most detailed and best. The rest had just a couple carvings, or just square holes, or a rounded half-pill shape thing that was apparently an alter of some sort that people left flowers and money upon.
Visiting the caves is a straight-ish line path, so we started skipping a few of them, making a beeline toward the restroom. The restrooms were hilarious. There were three stalls (well, I can only speak for the ladies room). The middle stall’s door wouldn’t shut, and only the far right stall was a western toilet. Mom and Auntie waited for that one, while I just used the squat toilet that at least had a working door. When Mom and Auntie left, they asked me what the little buckets were for.
Most Indian bathrooms have a hose to spray yourself with, or a faucet and bucket on the floor. You fill the bucket up with water, and use that water to clean yourself. I always carry toilet paper, personally. I don’t know what you are supposed to do after the bucket. You are still wet. So I guess that is why women’s pants are always covered with a long top? I don’t know. Anyhow, Mom and Auntie still had a bucket in their stall, despite it being a western toilet. So since neither of them could figure out how to flush it, they used the bucket to fill it with water as the flush! Very ingenious. It might even be right, I don’t know.
So we finished with the bathrooms and we walked back to the ferry, along the way checking out the rest of the caves that we had earlier skipped. Fez and I went up to one that the rest of the group passed upon. There was a dead frog floating in a small pond on the left side of the cave, and NEON yellow water floating on the right. Ew. But that was our favorite cave, because it had this square window to climb into and take a photo. No, that isn’t why it was our favorite…. It is everyone’s favorite because Fez couldn’t find her way down! LOL, the cave itself was maybe five feet above the walkway path. So everyone climbs up a small hill of rock to reach it. She and I were fine going up. I went down first (it was super easy) and then she couldn’t get down! People passed her and went down before her; other people started up the path, and so she couldn’t go down it as they were going up. We were all cracking up at her poor expense. She got down eventually, as my driver came up to her and tried to help, which embarrassed her enough to finally go down on her own; but I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of her struggling to get down that tiny little rock!
We grew tired of the caves, and made our way back down the stairs to our boat. Mom was way nicer than the rest of us, and stopped to pose for pictures. Mom also stopped and bought fancy pens for her staff. Auntie bought an elephant for her future-daughter-in-law; I bought a pair of guns (actually lighters) for my Dad’s birthday. Fortunately, with our driver, we got real prices rather than the foreigner prices. Our trick was to walk past something we like, and then get him to deal for it while we waited in the wings to pay. We stopped and got pop and chips at a vendor, and my driver (who still hadn’t eaten anything!) saved most of his chips for the monkeys.
When we reached the toy train, Auntie and I raced the others, by walking rather than riding. We won by a landslide. We sat, waiting for the others, looking at the water. The tide had gone out, and the skeletal remains were in fact a ship. Hum… there were lots of canoes and boats, once submerged, now visible in the swampy land surrounding the walkway.
We got on our ferry, deciding to sit on the bottom, out of the sun. Rather than tossing their water bottles out in the ocean (well, we still saw one kid do it while on the ride), most people stuck their water bottles in the rafters of the boat. I wondered how old the bottles were. We were on a newer ferry, and this ride was much faster, and we were soon off the boat and back on solid land again.
Our first order of business was to find a restroom, which we found in a bakery restaurant. We also got some bread to munch on, and finally convinced our driver to eat a bit.
Our next order of business was to shop along the Colaba Causeway. It is basically a huge string of vendors. Fortunately, it was covered, but unfortunately, it was crowded. Mom got some scarves, and I slipped into a bookstore and bought more books. But we were soon done (it is hard to enjoy yourself with that many people pushing against you), and back in the car.
We drove down Marine Drive, stopping for a quick photo of my husband’s office building; and had a longer stop at a small hole-in-the wall ice cream shop across from the Chowpatty Beach. We had to stop so my family could try the green chili ice cream. I don’t like spicy things, but it is so weird- it is smooth and cold like ice cream, but still burns going down like a chili. After the ice cream, we walked back to the car.
Suddenly, there were loud screams and shouts. What was going on? Just then, a bus whizzed past us. People started chanting, “India, India!”. We looked at the bus. It was the Indian Cricket Team! They were on their way back to the hotel for their celebratory party. Of course, mildly excited as we were, for the Indians on the street it was nothing short of a miracle. They lost control of their cars while gawking at the bus, and the next thing we heard were cars rear-ending each other.
We stared for a minute, but then focused on our goal of crossing the street to get to our car. We were terrible at it. Traffic, held back for the bus, was released and came in streams. My usual goal is to find and an Indian, and cross at the same time, but even the Indians couldn’t get across. We eventually made it halfway, and my driver, taking pity on us, crossed his side, met us in the middle, and showed us how to cross to the other side.
Along the way home, we stopped to rent the movie 3 idiots, which I really like, and hoped Mom, Auntie, and Fez would like as well. I think they liked it, but the day’s exhaustion was too much, and only half of us managed to stay awake for the entire movie.
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