Last day in India

I have spent most of the time here in Bombay in my hotel room. It’s so hot and sticky outside that one can only hold out for half an hour or so before coming back to wring out one’s shirt. This afternoon I went for a long walk down the Colaba Causeway, a so-called (in the TimeOut guide book) trendy shopping area. Lots of European-style stores with European-style clothing at roughly half of European prices, but lots of little Indian shops as well. Kind of cool to check these places out. I felt quite safe – similar to Ahmedabad, but with a slight edge of danger. Down the narrow side-streets someone who looks non-Indian is the target of staring eyes, although the begging hands don't come out immediately, as they do on the main thoroughfares. On Colaba Causeway you are approached every ten meters by someone either begging or trying to sell you something – tailor-made shirts, shoes, cheap trinkets, even pirated software. I could have bought the newest version of Adobe Creative Suite Premium for 250 Rupees (about $5 US or 4 euros) – cracked, with serial numbers included – unashamedly pirated, no bones about it, and right out in the open at a semi-permanent stall on the street. Only Windows versions were available, however. I don't know if one can get Mac software so easily, although I bet he would have organized it for me if I asked (and paid a premium). I bought a disposable camera and shot off most of the roll. My little Nikon CoolPix seems to have given up the ghost, although it may recover when I get back to the more temperate climes of Germany. It seems to be on acid – everything looks like Purple Haze. The disposable will at least give me some visual record of this day.

Leopold’s
I walked past “Leopold’s”, a tea room for tourists (although there seemed to be quite a few people in there who looked like they live here). Terrence Hollow, the Australian photographer who shared the guest house with me at NID, recommended it. I had already been out on the street for an hour or so though, and was tired and thoroughly drenched with sweat, so I walked past and came back to the hotel. I may drop by there later.

Early rising
I asked at the hotel reception when they thought I should leave for my 7 o’clock flight in the morning and they said 3:30! It seems one is expected to be at the airport three hours before the flight, although two and a half would do in a pinch. It takes about an hour to get out there, so 3:30 it is, I guess. That puts a small crimp in the enjoyment of this nice hotel. The breakfast was wonderful this morning – looks like I'll miss it tomorrow.
Whatever, I’m certainly looking forward to getting back home, even though this trip was quite an adventure.