The old town of Mumbai reminds me of Bloomsbury. It's chock full of grand, gothic brick buildings and crumbling colonial mansions with wrought-iron balconies. As I walk through the leafy avenues, watching crows breakfast on stinking rubbish bins and shouting 'bollocks!' as I trip over uneven paving stones in the sweltering humidity, I come to the conclusion that I am done with India.
It might be because I am now travelling through it Pete-free and am having to stare down groups of leery men on my own; though I am finding Mumbai is generally much more chilled out than mental, medieval Delhi. It's more likely because India is a uniquely frustrating country, and I have reached the pinnacle of my frustration. Nothing works. Everything is bodged or falling down. The bureaucracy of simple tasks is crippling. People try and swindle you - a lot.
But I'm not signing it off forever; there are still some awesome things about it.
For me, predictably, it's mostly about the food. On the street next to my hotel there are two men with a tiny cart whipping up savory pancakes, curry and vegetable Bahjis every morning. It must be good as there's always a crowd of around 20 men, seduced by the warm smell of garam masala, who stop for a quick breakfast before work. Carts like this are everywhere in India churning out wholesome meals for less than 50p.
In Rajasthan we feasted on pooris (fried flatbreads), parathas (buttered flatbreads) and chickpea curry, in Uttar Pradesh we had fresh rotis, samosas and some fantastic Thalis. West Bengal had the bengali egg-rolls and some fabulous noodles and dumplings courtesy of the influence from Tibet. I've been scoffing bright orange Jalebis everywhere (that is, Jale-bingeing) and making myself sick on burfis and luddus.
I'm now on the gateway to Southern India, so now it's all about the dosas (savoury pancakes) and idlis (steamed rice cake). I had some idli for breakfast and they were fantastic. I then had a battata vada (potato pakora) roll for lunch, followed by a raspberry frozen yogurt and an iced coffee (yes a coffee) at one of Mumbais slick, super air-conditioned snack chains.
I'm glad I can eat veggie easily and all the time; a walk past a miserable stinking poultry shop reminds me that chickens don't have a fantastic time here.
I'm off to Goa for 3 days of R&R before heading off on a convoluted route to Australia. I'm hoping for some awesome fish and coconuts to make the most of the time I have left in this culinary paradise, before entering a land of organised traffic, sexual liberation and even paving stones.
It might be because I am now travelling through it Pete-free and am having to stare down groups of leery men on my own; though I am finding Mumbai is generally much more chilled out than mental, medieval Delhi. It's more likely because India is a uniquely frustrating country, and I have reached the pinnacle of my frustration. Nothing works. Everything is bodged or falling down. The bureaucracy of simple tasks is crippling. People try and swindle you - a lot.
But I'm not signing it off forever; there are still some awesome things about it.
For me, predictably, it's mostly about the food. On the street next to my hotel there are two men with a tiny cart whipping up savory pancakes, curry and vegetable Bahjis every morning. It must be good as there's always a crowd of around 20 men, seduced by the warm smell of garam masala, who stop for a quick breakfast before work. Carts like this are everywhere in India churning out wholesome meals for less than 50p.
In Rajasthan we feasted on pooris (fried flatbreads), parathas (buttered flatbreads) and chickpea curry, in Uttar Pradesh we had fresh rotis, samosas and some fantastic Thalis. West Bengal had the bengali egg-rolls and some fabulous noodles and dumplings courtesy of the influence from Tibet. I've been scoffing bright orange Jalebis everywhere (that is, Jale-bingeing) and making myself sick on burfis and luddus.
I'm now on the gateway to Southern India, so now it's all about the dosas (savoury pancakes) and idlis (steamed rice cake). I had some idli for breakfast and they were fantastic. I then had a battata vada (potato pakora) roll for lunch, followed by a raspberry frozen yogurt and an iced coffee (yes a coffee) at one of Mumbais slick, super air-conditioned snack chains.
I'm glad I can eat veggie easily and all the time; a walk past a miserable stinking poultry shop reminds me that chickens don't have a fantastic time here.
I'm off to Goa for 3 days of R&R before heading off on a convoluted route to Australia. I'm hoping for some awesome fish and coconuts to make the most of the time I have left in this culinary paradise, before entering a land of organised traffic, sexual liberation and even paving stones.
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