Thurs 21 February, Mumbai, Marol Residency
Not Hotel Comfort Bliss as booked via Expedia, with beautiful, though clearly beguiling online photos. Instead, have been shunted a few doors down the street to a shabby sister hotel. Comfort Bliss has a squiffy fuse box. Short outs today. A bit like my neurotransmitters. It's okay, comfort bliss will have to wait till Kerala.
I've decided. Was going to maybe stay for two nights in old Bombay. But, seeing as the Chesterfields Reds I left behind outside Heathrow T5 at around 20:00 hrs last night transpired not to be my last ever crackerbox of cancer sticks ... I think I'd better stick with advice given by the S&S double act, currently of Seven Sisters. Stay one night and get the hell out of Mumbai. Get straight on train to the southwest, were their instructions.
Curiously, I am right opposite the Seven Hills hospital. What is it with me, numbers, and names?
Been a good girl, eating tarka dal, a green salad which is actually cucumber shaved, tomato, red raw onion rings, carrot. Not exactly green in my book. Followed my Luncheon Alarm, which plays a nice Buena Vista Social Tune. Alarms keep me on track. Especially when all other systems have failed, gone to seed, or simply 'cause I've lost track of time. Time Is The Most Important of commodities.
(Was going to insert photo of lunch, but learning this iPad interface is not the same as the bookPro. Humph. Technology, eh?)
Trying not be a tad gloomy about the Teensy Matchbox Bombay-Line (budget hotel) Disaster. Will elaborate after a good siesta. This is India, after all.
Mango lassi next. Saw a nice cubby hole around the corner. Men only, eating deep fried food. The food and drink is about a 10th of the price of this joint.
Love Mother India. Even the noises, grime and dust. It's warm and sunny for a start. always a bonus.
Not Hotel Comfort Bliss as booked via Expedia, with beautiful, though clearly beguiling online photos. Instead, have been shunted a few doors down the street to a shabby sister hotel. Comfort Bliss has a squiffy fuse box. Short outs today. A bit like my neurotransmitters. It's okay, comfort bliss will have to wait till Kerala.
I've decided. Was going to maybe stay for two nights in old Bombay. But, seeing as the Chesterfields Reds I left behind outside Heathrow T5 at around 20:00 hrs last night transpired not to be my last ever crackerbox of cancer sticks ... I think I'd better stick with advice given by the S&S double act, currently of Seven Sisters. Stay one night and get the hell out of Mumbai. Get straight on train to the southwest, were their instructions.
Curiously, I am right opposite the Seven Hills hospital. What is it with me, numbers, and names?
Been a good girl, eating tarka dal, a green salad which is actually cucumber shaved, tomato, red raw onion rings, carrot. Not exactly green in my book. Followed my Luncheon Alarm, which plays a nice Buena Vista Social Tune. Alarms keep me on track. Especially when all other systems have failed, gone to seed, or simply 'cause I've lost track of time. Time Is The Most Important of commodities.
(Was going to insert photo of lunch, but learning this iPad interface is not the same as the bookPro. Humph. Technology, eh?)
Trying not be a tad gloomy about the Teensy Matchbox Bombay-Line (budget hotel) Disaster. Will elaborate after a good siesta. This is India, after all.
Mango lassi next. Saw a nice cubby hole around the corner. Men only, eating deep fried food. The food and drink is about a 10th of the price of this joint.
Love Mother India. Even the noises, grime and dust. It's warm and sunny for a start. always a bonus.
No comments:
Post a Comment