Blue Sky Mumbai

Dharavi II, originally uploaded by Christiane B.

Late last night we stumbled home from our favorite watering hole Leopold's (just buy a copy of Shantaram and start reading it already, ok?), surrounded by rats the size of those trendy rat dogs Paris Hilton carries in her purse, but furrier. In every alley men are stretched out sleeping on the floor, one holding on tightly to his peg leg. We met the most amazing couple who were a good dozen pints into the night: she is an ancient and I mean ancient lady in a tight pink plastic tank top with the added nice touch of diamond clad straps, carrying a diamond studded purse and bling. She is in her 60s and from England - a self-described country girl- and her Indian beau is a bit rough around the edges and his eyes constantly try to pull the cleavage of her tank top up to cover the chest area that has seen many a hot summer on a sunny English beach. Goan beach goers they are and they are delighted that we will be going that way as well. Parties have been planned and I am equally thrilled and horrified.

I think I may have found my travel chill by now and we are basking in groups of kids and non-kids who are our temporary friends. A group of cousins from Pune tracked us down last night on Chapatti beach exuding the same confidence and curiosity that most everyone we have met seems to naturally own. "Please come sit and meet my family" leads to a 2 hr chat about the advantages of arranged versus love marriages. There seems to be a trust in the parents ability to get the dirty work done: make sure the guy is from a good family of the same caste, makes good money and seems healthy and able. Then the girls themselves are asked for their yay or nay. It's more romantic that way they say. Also they don't have a choice, I cynically add. The bratty 15 year old cousin is determined to do the love marriage gig, which his girl cousins tell him is out of the question. The oldest has just left her home and moved in with her husband's family. Her husband is not out with the group but calls her every thirty minutes. "He loves her so" the other girls comment. They are the most beautiful and outgoing bunch.

The boys have pictures of scantly dressed Bollywood stars on their cell phones and are trying to convince me to go swimming in the polluted bay without blinking and eye, I punish them and make them inwardly throw up when I tell them about my swine eating tendencies. Our LP India is filled with email addresses and phone numbers because we are so out of touch not to carry our cell phones with us. Our London addresses are firmly entered into their cell phones.

The girls wave goodbye not without asking whether I can cook, if I wear mini skirts and please please please to write them and to come visit. I do want to but where the hell is Pune?

Tomorrow we are off to Goa on a 12 hour train journey that I hope will be filled with much chai and road side sweets. So far the monsoon rains are holding off and the heat is letting up a bit. It feels like the whole city is waiting for the downpour that will allow them to relax and breath.