Holy Cow ... I'm in Mumbai (Bombay)!

Six days after returning from Argentina, I was once again in the air on a nearly 24 hour jouney. I arrived on Saturday night thinking I would be staying in a corporate apartment. Unfortunately, no one arranged for a transfer of the key. I assumed the driver or building security would have it. Nope. After a few calls and about a half-hour wait, someone booked me a room at the JW Marriott for the weekend instead. It actually worked out well as I now didn't have to worry about how to explain to the driver that I need a grocery store where I could buy breakfast food and water (store...to buy food...for kitchen...to cook...fruits....vegetables .... blank stare). Those are activities that best dealt with after talking to other ex-pats or locals.

The Marriott is in a suburb called Juhu and is on the beach (on the Arabian Sea). It was beautiful and fabulous. The place smelled of jasmine as it was everywhere inside the hotel. I guess on the weekends they string it and hang it, and place blossoms on floors, tables, etc. Flowers in the jasmine family are extremely fragrant and I was in heaven taking big whiffs as I toured the hotel.

Saturday night at the Marriott was hopping. I noticed quite a few young people dressed up and dance club music blaring. One of the doormen at the club convinced me to go in and take a look. Although it was past midnight and I was tired after a long day of flying, I figured what the heck. I'm glad I experienced the Mumbai club scene. I immediately understood why he wanted me to go in ... the male to female ratio was heavily slanted on the male side and the place was packed.

What’s unusual were the guys were all singing, pumping their fists in the air, and dancing with each other or by themselves. Other ex-pats later confirmed that this is typical, and no this wasn't a gay bar (homosexuality is frowned upon). In the hour or so I was there, not a single guy asked a girl to dance. They seem to be content watching the scene, singing and dancing. The girls danced with each other, the guys were doing their own thing. There were some mixed groups and they danced with each other in a group.

The singing was especially fanatical when the songs were native dance hits. They play a lot of western songs, of which I only recognized Daddy Yankee’s Gasolina.

I also noticed a lot of guys drinking out of brandy snifters, and I doubt it was brandy. Some had ice, others had a straw and the drink didn’t look like brandy. The guy next to me either smelled of cloves or his drink (in a snifter) did. He seemed to enjoy using my hip as an arm rest. Given how crowded Mumbai is, Indians' size of personal space is quite small.

As I left around 2 am (amazing that I stayed up so late on the first night), I noticed a little podium with a charge card machine. Ah ha...the bar only makes the drinks. Payment is handled at the “cashier” station and it seemed a bit frantic at 2 am as people started to leave.

Day one first impression: smell. Everyone always remarks about the smell of India. As I stepped onto the jetway, it smelled like insecticide. Hopefully it’s to kill mosquitoes....I'm taking malaria pills just in case.

P.S. My card reader isn't functioning properly so I can't post photos at this time. :-( But I'll add them later.