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Spice up your life in incredible India -1
Source: Inquirer
Author: Ma. Lalaine B. Reyes
Date: 2001-03-14
 
I’VE always been fascinated by Indian shows on cable. With their shiny and elaborate national costumes plus the energetic duck-like movements of their necks and tush while wandering at the side of the mountains. They’re also known for producing beauty queens--from former Miss Universe Sushmita Sen to the current Miss World. Traveling to this culturally rich and diverse country proved to be one enjoyable ride.



My friends warned me to have shots taken due to the regular outbreak of dengue fever there. I was scared of needles so I just took anti-pills, packed mosquito-repellent lotion, bottled water and my trusty cam. All set!



Arriving late in the afternoon in Mumbai after an eight-hour airplane trip, hordes of small, old black Fiat taxis greeted me at the airport. Strangely, their meters were placed outside, near the front mirrors. I spotted my colleagues from Indonesia--Inge, Anto and Daniel--and jubilantly joined them on the way to The Leela Hotel.



After marveling at the hotels big chandeliers and gargantuan marble fountains, we rented a taxi for 1,200 rupees to get to the heart of Mumbai for some sightseeing and shopping. We felt like sardines inside the small taxi. Their drivers would put to shame our drivers in the Philippines. I almost got a heart attack, expecting to collide with other cars whenever our driver squeezed in to get ahead.



Children wearing beads around their necks and colorful artworks on their faces approached our taxi, begging for money. How’s that for colorful encounters? There were lots of Indians living in the slums near the road and bridges, the women sporting still their traditional attires even in their meager conditions. The driver got pissed because we didn’t fancy the place he brought us to. How’s that for Indian hospitality?



Sightseeing in Mumbai



Once a tiny island overrun by swaying palm trees, Mumbai used to belong to the native koli fisher folk, which still live in their little villages surrounded by soaring skyscrapers. In the 17th century came Portuguese colonists who dotted the island with several forts, which stand even today. In 1661, Mumbai was finally ceded to Charles II of England and eventually became one of the largest ports in the British Empire.



The downtown area now is still exactly as it was, full of graceful old colonial buildings that have obviously seen better days. We passed by Juhu Beach. It’s a bourgeois paradise, filled to the gills with screaming children, courting couples and rowdy adolescents. Just like Luneta!



Taraporewala Aquarium on Marine Drive has a good collection of sea and freshwater fish and other marine life. The outside design of blue and white fishes painted on its wall was surely eye-catching. Mahalaxmi Racecourse, with its white fences, reminds me of the Sta. Ana Racetrack. Racing season is between November and February, frequented by India’s high society.



What I noticed were the big and fantastically handpainted cinema billboards that dominate many streets. Indians love the cinema. The Indian film industry, centered in Bombay, is one of the largest and most glamorous in the world. Mockingly called Bollywood by locals and cynics, it churns out over 900 films every year. The vast proportion of films produced is gaudy melodramas based on three vital ingredients: romance, violence and music. It is cheap operatic escapism and extremely harsh on the ears. Reminded me of home!



We arrived at leafy Laburnum Road, a quiet lane (with rows of mini-houses) named after its shady trees, Mani Bhavan, to check out Gandhi’s old residence. A pretty two-storied structure, it houses a reference library with over 2,000 books, photos and a diorama depicting the great leaders life. (Remember our grade-school field trips in Ayala Museum?) Tour guide Ashokum Kumar shared that the small wooden figurines were done for free by volunteers. They would get sandalwood from the jungle and carve patiently for three hours. Visitors were mainly Italians, Americans, Germans and Japanese. Many old Gandhians still visit the place to pay homage to their hero.



We headed next to The Gateway of India, Mumbai’s most famous monument. According to my Indian friend, Snehalata, this was built to commemorate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary in 1911, complete with four turrets and intricate latticework carved into the yellow basalt stone. Today this symbol of colonialism has gotten Indian-ized, drawing droves of locals and eager tourists (like me!) for some photo opportunities. Hawkers dressed in white long garments placed a bindi, like a red dot, on Anto’s forehead and handed him flower petals. He accepted it thinking it was free, but had to pay 10 rupees.



Walking distance is the Taj Mahal Hotel. The architect, a Briton named Chambers, designed the hotel with its back to the Arabian Sea, a mistake that has never been rectified. Even today, the grand old lobby faces the road behind. It hardly matters, though, because the Taj is really a work of art, with its elaborate structure, charming cupolas and oriental décor. Having had enough for the day, we headed back to the hotel. Tired but excited for our trip to Goa the following day.



Plane trip to Goa



I busied myself by scrutinizing the stewardesses, dressed in their national costume. They served us spicy potato patties and bhature-chole or beans. Yummy!



Goa is a tiny emerald land on the West Coast of India. On the way to the hotel, we marveled at the picturesque rural scenery. The general way of living is markedly different, the people quiet and peaceful. We passed by old Catholic churches built by British inhabitants, soccer fields, kids dressed in white shirts playing innocently beside the road.



Arriving at the Taj Exotica Hotel, I marveled at its impeccably appointed space. It’s an inspired oasis of luxury and tranquility. The towering palms surrounding the hotel welcomed the sea breeze with passive nods. Inge and I took pictures of each other at the hotel’s colorful interiors. We walked leisurely near the Arabian Sea fronting the hotel (visions of sea pirates with a parrot perched on its captain’s shoulders advancing toward us filled my imagination). Swimming was prohibited due to the big waves so I just walked barefoot and pinched myself, not believing I am millions of miles away from home. After settling down in our room, watching Indian shows while eating spicy samosas, we retired for the night for our next day’s trip to Panaji.



 

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