This was my second domestic flight, Jessica's third, and we have noticed that for some reason you still get fed on Indian airlines. On the Hyderabad-Mumbai flight, before the captain had turned off the seatbelt light, the stewardesses were racing down the aisles ("veg or non-veg?"). Ten minutes later they came with steaming pots of masala tea (what we call "chai" in the United States). The airplane food is crappy by Indian standards, which means delicious by ours. Dessert, for example, was a small dish of cardamom pudding.
The city formerly known as Bombay has a totally different feel from Delhi, the other Indian megacity we have visited so far. First of all, Mumbai is on the sea. Everywhere you look there are banyan trees (Ficus bengalensis) whose crazy snakelike roots have worked their way into the masonry of the surrounding buildings. I saw at least one seaside property that had been condemned--there was a sign from the city government on the door--but had not crumbled simply because the banyan roots held the crumbling thing together. The actual seashore is hot and smelly. Because hot, smelly places are so romantic, this is where Mumbai's teenagers come to hang out and--children, look away--hold hands.
The city formerly known as Bombay has a totally different feel from Delhi, the other Indian megacity we have visited so far. First of all, Mumbai is on the sea. Everywhere you look there are banyan trees (Ficus bengalensis) whose crazy snakelike roots have worked their way into the masonry of the surrounding buildings. I saw at least one seaside property that had been condemned--there was a sign from the city government on the door--but had not crumbled simply because the banyan roots held the crumbling thing together. The actual seashore is hot and smelly. Because hot, smelly places are so romantic, this is where Mumbai's teenagers come to hang out and--children, look away--hold hands.
One of the highlights for us was the Hanging Garden on Malabar Hill, where Violet met a fashion-forward seven-year-old with a nose ring and beautiful English.
A vendor was wandering around the Hanging Garden selling fans made from peacock feathers. I bought one for Violet. (I know, I know...but isn't it so pretty?)
We also visited a children's park named for the wife of Jawaharlal Nehru, India's first Prime Minister. Here's Violet with some teenagers who climbed the jungle gym to get a photo with her.
Another interesting aspect of Mumbai is the prominent Parsi population. I know a little about the Parsis from the novel A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. They are a small but successful ethnic minority who are some of the last remaining practitioners of Zoroastrianism, the ancient Persian faith. According to our guidebook, the Hanging Garden is near the Parsi Towers of Silence, where Mumbai's Parsis leave their dead for the vultures to pick over. We didn't see the Towers of Silence, but we did see a few Parsi schools and--vultures, look away--Parsi sweet shops.
