Mumbai, India

Wednesday, December 9th
Route of the Ancient Traders
Day 29
M/S Nautica
Mumbai, India
Mostly Sunny - 88 Degrees

We docked in Mumbai this morning to thick, choking smog and humidity. Our eyes, throats, and lungs immediately began a slow burn that would not let up for the rest of our time in India. The air has an acrid sweet and sour smell. Predominantly exhaust and wood smoke, but with hints of curry and diarrhea. We could see very little through the muck from the decks of the ship, but we could hear the band on the dock welcoming us to India. As we walked out on deck and down the gangplank, they played Europe's "The Final Countdown." Classic!!!

Indian immigration officials greeted us for another face-to-face passport check. This time, they stamped our passports and gave them back to us to carry ashore. Apparently, immigration officers have been busy with our passports in previous countries as well. Tres was pleased to discover stamps from Jordan, Oman, and the UAE. Wooo-hooo!!!

The Indian government has initiated a program of re-branding throughout the country. They are eschewing foreign colonial names for more authentic Indian monikers. In 1996, Bombay became Mumbai. Bombay was a Portuguese name meaning "good or small bay." By law, Mumbai must be used in all official business, but the people still refer to home as Bombay.

Mumbai is on the West coast of India centered between the North and South. Nautica will remain docked here overnight, departing late tomorrow, arriving in Goa on Friday. We are flying to Agra in the North to visit the Taj Mahal and will rejoin the ship Friday evening in Goa, before proceeding down the coast to Mangalore and Cochin.

We drove through the port area into downtown Mumbai at about 9:00 in the morning. The commute was winding down, but there was life everywhere. Pedestrians, bicycles, mopeds, scooters, motorcycles, motor-rickshaws, taxis, cars, trucks, goats, cows, water buffalo, dogs, sheep, etc. Total chaos. Traffic laws are merely suggestions in India, and no one seems to take the hint. Traffic of all kinds moves every which way at all times. As our guide said, red and green traffic lights are really just Christmas decorations. They drive on the left here, but just barely. If there is no median, you are welcome to use the whole road, which is often only one lane anyway. Passing is always a close call. The bus driver has an assistant that actually walks out into traffic to move this or that out of the way so the bus can proceed.

We passed historic Victoria Station.

Throngs of people teamed out of the exits like steam escaping from a boiler. They spilled out onto the streets fanning out in all directions, crossing streets mid-block, waiting for buses, catching taxis. The taxis are a riot. Every bit as ubiquitous and iconic as the taxis in London, Mumbai taxis are ancient Fiats with meters on the outside. They are tiny little clown cars, but they say that there is always room for one more passenger inside. Every vehicle with a horn uses it. Short honks are used as greetings and they get longer as frustration builds. The animals have the right of way, and they know it. We were told that water buffalo will respond to horns and move, while the cows have some understanding of their sacred place in Hindu society and don't respond to anything less than a gentle shove.

The filth and poverty tour has resumed after a brief respite in oil-rich Arabia. It is immediately clear that we have gone from one of the richest places in the world, Dubai, to one of the poorest, Mumbai. The squalor is really indescribable. Even in the commercial center, the buildings are rundown in the way of many abandoned colonies. They were built by the wealth of other nations and then left to rot. Little shantytowns pop up everywhere. Homes and business crammed together in row after row of ramshackle salvage. It is hard to believe people live this way. But, for all the misery, the people don't seem to notice. They are well-dressed and going about their business with purpose and dignity.

We made our way through the city and down to another part of the waterfront. There is an ancient Mosque at the end of a causeway that is only accessible outside of monsoon season and at low tide. We continued along the "Bombay," the haze still too thick to see beyond the rocks, until we came to the Sea Link, bridging the bay with a toll span. As we turned back, we had a view of the city through the smog. There are a few modern towers, but our last look at Mumbai was the ancient fort at water's edge, surrounded by another slum.

The domestic airport is in a suburb of Mumbai. Near the airport we passed the slum made famous by the movie, but it was all "Slumdog," and no "Millionaire." We pulled up to the departure terminal dreading what was to come. Indian security is notorious for being difficult to navigate, especially since the terror attacks by Islamists from Pakistan beginning November 26th, 2008. After four days of bombings, 173 people were dead and 308 wounded. This was India's 9/11. The attacks were all over the news again as they marked the one-year anniversary last month. Security was thorough, but relatively easier than US security. We breezed through the checkpoint and down an escalator to the gate where our charter was waiting.

We boarded a Kingfisher Airlines Airbus A-320 and took our seats in business class for the 2 hour flight to Agra. The plane was new and comfortable and the trip to Agra was uneventful. This is a joint civil and military airport with armed guards standing watch as we descended the stairs onto the tarmac, through the terminal, and onto the buses.

Agra was the capital of the Mughal Empire and was once a great city. There is lots of history here, and many monuments. The Taj Mahal is just the beginning. Outside of the gates surrounding these amazing relics, modern Agra is just one never-ending slum. Agra is just the third most populous city in its state, with a population of 1.5 million people. They all seem to live in filth and squalor. Driving down the road in the middle of the city, all forms of human activity take place in full view. People on their way to and from work and school, transporting goods, just hanging out, urination, defecation, washing, eating. The animals that wander free are thin and sickly. Dung is collected and sold for fuel. Garbage piles up in every low place. The conditions here are as bad as you can imagine, and worse. And yet, as overwhelming as the grime and hopelessness appears, the dignity of the people is even more so. Their clothes are clean and pressed, especially the uniforms worn by the school children. They sweep dirt floors with brooms homemade from twigs. They offer no apology for the way they live. Nor do they wallow in their misery or begrudge us as we pass. They wave and welcome us, proud of what they have and what we have come to see.

We checked into the Gateway Hotel and our room on the fourth floor with a view of the Taj. Comfortable beds and solid plumbing, luxuries the locals couldn't imagine.

After a rest, we departed for the Taj Mahal nearing sunset. We took buses to a parking lot where we transferred to electric buses for the final leg to the monument. This was a concession to concerns about the effects of pollution on the Taj, a noble idea, but a total joke. The electric buses don't make a dent in the pollution that obscures the hand in front of your face, let alone the monument. The electric buses dropped us off at the foot of the gauntlet. The grimy street was lined with souvenir stands and hawkers pushing their wares. They are in your face the whole way, but you have to ignore them. We made it to the East gate and got in line for security. Once inside, we emerged into a large courtyard where people entering from the other gates converged on the main entrance to the Taj. Inside the entrance, the vista opened up. A series of long landscaped reflection pools lead to the Taj Mahal. It is flanked by mosques on each side and sits above the Yamuna River to the rear. It is an awesome sight.

The Taj Mahal is a mausoleum and a monument to Mumtaz Mahal, beloved wife of Shah Jahan. The couple were inseparable. Mumtaz Mahal accompanied Shah Jahan on all of his travels. In 1631, she joined him on a trip to the South of India. She went into labor and died during the birth of their 14th child. Shah Jahan was shattered. The royal court was in mourning. For two years, there was no music, no feasting, no celebration of any kind. When Shah Jahan finally came out of mourning, he vowed to build a memorial to her that the world would never forget. Construction on the Taj Mahal began in 1633 and took 17 years and the labor of 20,000 craftsmen. The Shah was deposed by his own son in 1658 and lived the remainder of his life imprisoned in Agra Fort with a view of the Taj Mahal and the love of his life. In memory of his wife, Shah Jahan has given us perhaps the most perfect architectural and artistic achievement of all time. The white marble tiles are sculpted with carvings and reliefs, and inlaid with semi-precious stones an inch deep.

Many veterans of Indian travel have recommended that we eat vegetarian on this trip. Many Hindus are vegetarian and avoiding meat cuts down on the risk of getting sick. We love Indian food and have been looking forward to eating our way through vegetarian curry buffets. The food at the hotel was excellent. Every meal, even breakfast, included fresh-baked Indian breads and a selection of curries, like aloo gobhi, dal masala, paneer makhani, aloo bhaji, paneer hara pyaza, aloo capsicum, dal tadka, and many more. The heat was toned down to protect sensitive American palates, but the flavors were authentic. Tres had a field day!!!

After a flavorful dinner and a long day, we went up to bed. The party outside was just getting started. According to the astrologers, this is a favorable time for marriage. The hotel hosted a wedding that lasted all night. The parade went for miles down the street in front of the hotel with the bride and groom riding elephants. When they arrived, the reception moved to the back of the hotel. The music was beautiful and exotic as we drifted off to sleep.

Next: More of Agra