I first noticed the evidence of this statement when I flew to Sydney. Heading into the city, you are in the industrial part of town. Factories, trucks, kind of a letdown.
And then there is Mumbai. This reminds me so much of Dhaka. The only difference is that the roads are pretty good. Actually, they are better than some parts of Christchurch!
From the moment you set off, your senses are bombarded with what it is to be in India. I have no idea where the concrete motorways overhead are going, but we are driving underneath them, jostling for space with trucks, cars, scooters, rickshaws and all other forms of transport known to man. What was designed as a two-laned road has become four-laned by sheer force of will by the road users.
There is also an efficiency of vehicle usage as well. On one scooter we saw a dad on the front, with mum behind, holding two kids between them. The kids would have been about 5-6 years old, and the dad was the only one with a helmet. Priorities being what they are.
Another scooter had four adults stacked front to back. The ultimate in mobile spooning. Impressive!
We got overtaken by a rather large truck. More monstered out of the way, but lets not split hairs. Sarah noticed a hammock swinging peacefully underneath. I hope the driver only uses it when the truck is parked, but nothing would surprise us.
Flanking the road for long stretches are long stretches of rusty tin sheds which seem to double as overstocked shops selling everything and nothing, as well as being a home for the shopkeeper and his family. Further along, the wealthier shop owners have an actual shopfront about the size of that tiny tin shed, and the family lives in the coat closet upstairs.
Everything, from the underside of the concrete motorway, to the permanent and temporary buildings, to the roads, to the vehicles, and everything that inhabits them are all covered in the same grime. The same smells. The same pollutants. The same stench of squalor.
As we drive, we pass buildings that had been built to reflect the grandeur of better times, but had fallen into disrepair decades ago.
Punctuating this conflict of fortunes, we pass a Jaguar dealership, and soon after one for Porsche.
We cross a long suspension bridge, and the change is palpable. The city skyline in the distance is modern and sparkling. We are now on what they call Marine Drive. Imagine any "Marine Drive" in any exotic city in the world, and this is it. Beautiful.
Beautiful houses to the left, waterfront views to the right. Nice.
Soon we are at our hotel. The Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. One of Mumbai's original hotels. Security up the wazoo. A terrorist bomb took out a big chunk of the insides in 2008, and it didn't reopen till 2010, so caution is the order of the day.
Just like in KL, we get buttled all the way to our room. Excellent! Our window looks out over the "Gateway to India", a major landmark in this town. Built for King George V, this was used for the ceremonial departure of the British in 1948. The troops passed through the monument to board their ships.
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