Monday 18th Jan

I had a particularly odd chloroquine nightmare last night. I persuaded Rahul that he was evil and that it would be better for everyone if he killed himself, so he overdosed on anti-malarials! Weird.

After a morning sitting in the shade to offer some relief to the sunburn, we took a taxi to the airport and a flight back to Mumbai. Upon arrival we headed for the pre-pay taxi counter as the most reliable transport option. Paid my 300 rupees, got my ticket and headed out into the car park to find a taxi. Unfortunately we walked right into the hands of a thieving pikey, who took my both my receipts and wouldn’t return a copy, then put us in a taxi with a driver and a man who demanded another 2000 rupees. We were in a bit of a quandary as it was obviously a scam but we were stuck in the car with all our luggage preventing us from making a quick escape, minus the pre-pay receipt, and right near the exit from the airport away from the other taxis. We ended up giving him 600 rupees. What shame for the seasoned traveller to be scammed so easily!

The taxi ride through Mumbai to the Hotel Fortune where Ben was holed up was extremely long, compounded by the fact that the driver had no idea where he was going. After making some phone calls and consulting another taxi driver he was no better off, so grudgingly let Alvin direct him from a photo of a Google map. The LP was buried in my bag somewhere so I frantically gripped Fermat’s Last Theorem at the point where we were nearly crushed between a lorry and a wall. It was a big relief to arrive, and an extra bonus that the driver didn’t demand more money.

Ben decided we needed to go to dinner at a special place he’d found in the Rough Guide. After a false start wherein we went down completely the wrong road, Ben’s sense of direction righted itself and we found the Rajdhani down a rather insalubrious rat-infested alley. We went in and sat down at a table with some thali dishes. I made the mistake of drinking the water they poured, which was of course tap water. I am now patiently awaiting my stomach’s retribution.

We were the only customers in the place as it was late, and we had the full attention of all the waiters. There was no menu, they just came every minute or two to shovel more food onto our plates. We were getting pretty stuffed, when the head waiter came along and said “kedgeree?”. We all politely declined on account of fullness, but apparently this was not an option. He summoned over the kedgeree waiter. “Kedgeree?” he repeated, more softly and menacingly. Again we demurred. “TRY,” he announced. Alvin was first to capitulate and asked for a small portion, whereupon a ladleful was heaped onto his plate. Ben gave in easily. “Madam? Kedgeree?” asked the waiter. “No thanks, I’m very full.” “TASTE IT. JUST A LITTLE.” “Er, ok.”