Mumbai, it's hard to leave. And not in a "Christ this is fantastic I don't ever want to go" kind of way. Just logistically it's hard to depart. This is particularly, or perhaps even exclusively, the case if you've been dumb enough not to arrange your departure for Goa in advance. Anyway, what this boils down to is that instead of catching the air conditioned, overnight sleeper train I'll be cramped up on a bus for 14 hours. It's really not a great result for me.
Still, things are good. The sub continent is as hot and sticky as you'd expect, which a surprisingly large number of the locals seem to overcome by attempting to sell ludicrously large balloons. You should see these things, they're roughly the size a smart car. What possible use they can be to anyone apart from marking the purchaser out as a pigeon of the highest order it's hard to grasp but there must be someone out there buying or it wouldn't be going on. No doubt it's hard graft selling giant balloons to the discerning consumer, not least because you've got to blow the jeffing things up every morning. I was up early this morning and there, lined up along the wall on the far side of Colaba's main drag, sat a bank of hyperventilating balloon sellers busting a lung to earn a buck. I almost bought one on the spot out of admiration but didn't fancy carrying it around for the rest of the day. I couldn't bare the though of buying one and bursting it. They'd invested too much effort.
With luck the next post will come from Goa.
That is it for now,
Dale Atkinson
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment