Day 2 in the City of No.

I wake up at 7am to get ready and explore. I step out of the hotel not having ANY sense of direction or purpose. So I walk and walk and walk and walk. Until finally, I come to the conclusion that I need to find the train station. So I navigate my way through directions given to me in Hinglish (Hindu-English).

Then off to get some food. I don't know what most of the food is made up of but I see Cheese Sada Dosa. I know what cheese is, I'll take it. My waiter says, "No, you have this one" pointing to the Ghee Butter Sada Dosa. I say, "But I want the cheese.. I like cheese." He said, "No, you like butter, no cheese." Then walks away. I find it amusing and I figure, Only in India. So then comes my dish and I pretty much breath in the triangular, quesidilla looking, yellow spiced potato goodness.

While some people affectionately call Mumbai the City of No, I consider it the City of Honking Horns, or the City of Defying Death on the Streets. I keep my poker face on all morning trying not to let the taxis faze me as they brake within inches of me. The drivers are so skilled I don't doubt their depth perception. No one bothers to take the traffic suggestions. My only way of knowing it's my turn to walk is if there is someone in front of me about to brave the streets. I wish I understood the traffic system here, if there is one. It's like organized anarchy on the road. There are no rules but there is a silent understanding between drivers.

I make it a mission to find myself some traditional Indian clothing. So I test out my haggling skills. & it works. I bought a beautiful purple silk sari, priced at 550, for 400. So I'm wandering around Churchgate, again with no sense of direction. Everything looks very Victorian, thanks Britain.

& here I am re-packing for my 28-31 hour train ride to Varanasi at midnight tonight. Oh what an adventure that'll be.