Exiting the gothic looking building of Victoria Terminus or VT for short, I quickly halted a cab and enjoyed a pleasant ride with an Indian couple and their young child to my destination—The Gateway of India.
Popular to both tourists and Indians alike, the Gateway of India is a colonial arch, built in the sixteenth century that faces the Mumbai Harbour. Imposing and striking is how I would describe the monument. Again I won’t pretend to know its significance.
The usual hawkers and photographers were here plying their wares to tourists and locals. I bought a can of Fanta and drank it while I walked along the dirty harbour front.
I didn’t stick around long because the sights were damaging to my senses. Garbage floated on the water and the banks were littered with rubbish. Not to mention the smells of sweat and body odor that were carried by the wind. What I really needed to do was walk the streets. This I did and I was not disappointed.
Colaba, the southernmost point in Mumbai, is the main tourist district. Stores selling tourist crap and other pointless items are ample. Walk a few steps and you’ll find yourself in front of a shop selling more crap. I breezed through them all including a tight squeeze through the crowded and bustling Colaba Market.
I walked and I walked. Many of the buildings in Colaba are in the Victorian style. I am assuming the English built most of them while they were here. I enjoyed walking and marveling at the buildings. I located the National Art Gallery and the History Museum but I didn’t go in. I much preferred strolling. I strolled for hours until I couldn’t stand the heat any more.
I decided to catch a cab back to VT. I knew it should take less than eight minutes. My driver spoke little English and I asked him to take me to Central Station. He did take me there but it wasn’t where I should have gone. (My confusion of station names played the staring role in my little drama.)
Half a dozen different rail stations are in Mumbai, and I wasn’t 100 per cent clear on their names when I set out. (I am now) At once I knew the driver dropped me off at the wrong station. I didn’t recognize any of the surrounding buildings. I went inside and confirmed with a guard of my stupidity.
I decided to catch another cab. An overzealous driver said he would take me to my destination. I was in the cab for less than two minutes when I explained exactly where I wanted to go. I don’t think I said VT (because at that point I was unclear of the name) but the driver was very sure of himself. I told him I should take a train to Nerul which would be a direct ride with no transfers.
I was a little freaked out because he was asking me all these personal questions. Then he told me that to reach Nerul station, I would have to take several transfers. I knew something wasn’t right. So I told him to stop talking and stop the cab or turn the cab around. He said okay but he got on the highway. I was livid and I freaked out which sparked a not so pleasant screaming match. He told me I was confused and I didn’t know what I was talking about. (Okay maybe I was but he should have listened to me when I said stop the cab!)
The bottom line is he dropped me off half an hour away from the correct station. I was so angry and frustrated that I got out and slammed the door after throwing some money at him.
Inside this station, I met a young Indian man who helped me when I explained the situation to him. I wanted to cry and the last thing I wanted to do is get into another taxi. But I did and I finally boarded my train to Nerul.