Sunday April 28 5:32
I had arrived in Mumbai at 9:30pm the night before and
ordered a taxi from a legit company. While I was waiting for the taxi another
man forcibly tried to get me to go into his car, but like a good little girl I
said no. He seemed both surprised and pissed by how determined I was to get
into the right taxi.
My taxi finally came, and I told him the address of a hotel
I got out of The Lonely Planet. He could not find the place for an
excruciatingly long time, and when he did it was down a sketchy ally and up
some stairs with people sleeping in it. The hostel itself was fine, and the
owner was friendly, but he only had triple rooms available and because it was
almost 11:00pm. I had to dish out the dough and take it. The room cost me
almost 20 dollars.
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| Cricket Park |
The reason I chose the hotel in the first place is because
it is next to the Kenesset Eliyahoo Synagogue, a bright blue Sephardic Shul
that is closed to tourists on Saturday for services. There was some really
intense security there when I tried to go to the services, including what
looked like a mini tank, and you would have thought I was applying for the CIA.
Knowing what the security man wanted to hear, I lied, and told him that Chabad
from Varanasi sent me, even though I read about the Shul on the Internet.
“Chabad” was like a secret password, and I was finally allowed in.
Though the Shul was large, the service was almost empty.
There were two other foreign girls, three local women, and a smattering of both
in the men’s sections, but the place felt eerily vacant. Add to that the
chipping paint and it was clear that this community had seen better days. The
Rabbi was a young man straight out of Israel, and there were very few Indian
men.
After the service we were all invited to a delicious lunch downstairs,
and I had a lovely time talking to the few women, though they may have tried to
set me up with their resident socially awkward forty something bachelor. Other
then that, it was great.
As lunch finished I headed out, but was chased down by the 25
year old Rabbi who moved to Mumbai a month ago. When I told him I had no plans
he asked me to walk with him, and showed me the Gateway of India, the Taj
Hotel, and the hotel where he stays on Shabbas. Between my Hebrew and his
English we were able to carry on a nice conversation, and we were stopped a few
times by other Jews who were attracted to his frum look. It was really nice,
though I did keep slipping into Hindi.
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| Mumbai University |
After I said goodbye to the Rabbi I continued walking, and an Indian boy joined me. I usually don’t let them walk with me, but this one did
not ask for any money or for me to come to his shop within the first few
minutes, so I let him show me how to get to Mumbai University. We walked though
a park and watched some young children at cricket practice, and then I basically
told him to get lost because I was tired and wanted to sit down and read a
book. At this point I had done a few hours of walking, and still had a few
hours before my trains, so I found a café and other places to just hang out
until it was time to go to the train station.
All these people say Mumbai is a scary place, and I am sure
once I leave tourist-vill when I go back in a few days it will be, but the
tourist spots in Mumbai have nothing on the tourist spots in Varanasi. If you
can do Varanasi, you can do anywhere. Yesterday someone told me they heard
Varanasi was the ‘Shithole of India’, and I think I may have to agree. Even the
Mumbai locals were shocked when they heard that I had spent a few months in
Banaras, misunderstanding my pervious naiveté for bravery.
PS. I lost my Kiddi Tims in the Mumbai train station,
resulting in my almost missing my train, and a little bit of a crushed spirit.
Add to that the ear and throat infection I got yesterday, and it was a bad
end to a good day.
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